


Where The Lost Go

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Series: Crowned Souls [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Pre-OT6 - Freeform, king AU, minecraft au, so they start getting together in pairs in this one, this will be a series and they'll get together later in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 132,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A king has died, and there’s a crown for the taking.</p><p>To avoid war over who will lay claim to the most dangerous kingdom in the land, the remaining kings come to an agreement. A tournament. Three challenges. The winner gets the crown - and its powerful gift.</p><p>But nothing is so simple. Political problems have Geoff under pressure and Jack struggling to help him. Young kings Michael and Ray have everything to prove, but their plan for victory complicates their relationship. And Ryan’s determined to stay in control - at least until a rival king’s fool and the mystery he brings with him distract him from his goal.</p><p>With everyone desperate to win and motivations becoming tangled, things escalate. No longer is it a simple competition, but a game of minds, relationships - and betrayal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

By the time they arrived in Ryan's kingdom, Gavin had been ignoring Geoff for two and a half weeks.

It was not just the silent treatment. That at least might have been bearable. No, Gavin's version of giving Geoff the cold shoulder involved actively avoiding him – turning away when Geoff looked at him, deliberately riding at the back of the party with the supply wagons while Geoff was stuck at the front, refusing to sit with him when they stopped for the night – and, on the occasions when their eyes did meet, alternating between glaring at him, or giving him the most miserable looks he could muster, making it abundantly clear that he held Geoff responsible for his current discontent.

Angry Gavin, Geoff could handle.

 _Upset_ Gavin was something else entirely, and Geoff had reached his breaking point.

After days of travel, the flat, grassy plains of Ramsey territory had given way to gravel, cliffs of bare rock and endless grey. The Stoneworld was a bleak place, little more than a giant quarry, but now that they had reached the top of one of the great ridges, a city finally became visible in the pit below them. An enormous castle rose from the centre, nothing like the one back in Geoff's kingdom. It was an ugly building; a fortress of flat-roofed, rectangular blocks of varying heights. Everything was made of smooth stone, with no texture and a static grey colour. The whole city, in fact, was built of rock and might well have been mistaken for more of the enormous, colourless boulders strewn about the place, if it wasn't for the lights.

Twinkles of bright red lit up the whole city. There was something alien about them, so different from the usual warm glow of firelight in every other town in every other kingdom. It was uncomfortable to look at – like a crowd of wicked crimson eyes, staring back at them from down in the pit.

That was where they were headed.

But for now, the company had stopped to dismount. The ridge was too steep to ride down, so they'd have to lead the horses on foot, and there was a pause as they had to work out how to get the wagons down. It was there that Geoff finally found himself near Gavin again – the other man was standing a little distance away, staring down at the city below, and Geoff bit his lip and walked over to him.

“Fucking ugly place, isn't it?” he began, coming up by Gavin's side.

He saw Gavin's shoulders stiffen, and he didn't even look at Geoff before starting to turn away. But something snapped in him then, something desperate and pleading and too close to _lonely,_ and he seized Gavin's arm and tugged him back around.

“Hey – Gav – stop sulking, alright? This has gone on long enough.”

Gavin finally looked over at him. He looked tired, the sort of tiredness that came with being on the road too long. They all had it, after two weeks of constant travel. His face was pale with cold – there was a constant chill in the air, here in the Stoneworld – and it made his green eyes look brighter, the shadows under them more pronounced, even flashing as they were with anger.

“Whatever my king commands,” he replied coldly, and Geoff couldn't help his flinch.

“Come _on,_ Gav. Don't be like that. Please?”

Gavin bit his lip, looking away, and Geoff stepped closer, wrapping his arms around him.

“I don't want to be fighting with you when we get there. I'm sorry, alright? Are you cold?” He tried to tug Gavin closer but the other man squirmed.

“Geoff...” his voice faltered. “I'm trying to be mad at you here.”

“You've been mad at me long enough. I said I was sorry.”

“ _Now_ you're sorry. Now that we're already _here_ and it's too late for me to go back.” He pushed Geoff away from him and angrily kicked a bit of gravel over the edge of the ridge. It bounced against the rocks until it reached the bottom of the pit, Geoff watching it with a sinking feeling.

“Gav...”

“You said you'd help me,” Gavin cried, two weeks' worth of pent up frustration making his voice shake. “Those witches were the first lead I've ever gotten, Geoff. The only people I've ever heard of who might be able to give me some answers. But by the time we get back they'll be gone – do you know how _rare_ it is for them to come near the cities?”

He kicked another rock over the edge, fists clenching, and Geoff bit his lip again, guilt tugging heavy at his chest.

“I know this is important to you,” he said quietly. “And I promise, we _will_ find out about your family. But this is important too. Not just to you and me, but to the whole kingdom. We're talking another fucking _crown_ here, Gav. And if I don't win it, someone else will. We can't let that happen. What if Ryan gets his hands on it? We don't want that.”

Gavin wasn't looking at him. With his shoulders hunched up, his big scarf covering half his face and his hair hanging over his eyes, he looked too much like the lost, scrawny kid Geoff had first met six years ago.

“I know that,” Gavin replied at last, voice tight. “But why do _I_ have to be here? Even if you didn't come, you could've let me go to the witches on my own.”

“I need you here with me,” Geoff insisted, and Gavin turned to him, that same upset burning in his eyes as before they left on this trip, when he'd pleaded with Geoff not to make him come along. He'd felt awful then, and he felt awful now – worst of all because he still, selfishly, couldn't quite get rid of the underlying fact that even now he was _glad_ the other man was here by his side.

“Why?” Gavin demanded. “I doubt any of the other kings brought their court fool along!”

“You know you're not just a fool,” Geoff said, and reached for him again, grabbing his hand earnestly. “ _I need you here_ , Gavin. I need people I can trust, _really_ trust. Especially with Ryan here too. You've heard the stories – I wouldn't put it past him to be planning to try and take the crown even if he doesn't win the games. I'm going to need all the information I can get on what everyone else is up to, and you know what it's like. No one notices a fool. People talk in front of you.”

Gavin was staring at him, and Geoff squeezed his hand.

“Besides,” he added, softer now. “I wanted you here with me.”

It came out quietly, too-sincere, and Gavin's face softened, the anger fading from his eyes. Geoff could only stare at him pleadingly.

The last few weeks of travel had been hell without Gavin his usual self. Sure, as the royal jester it was his job to make things lighter, but even more than that – they were close friends, and he always seemed to know exactly what to say to distract Geoff, or make him smile. And as they headed to the bleak Stoneworld, and Ryan, and the trials to come, Geoff had really fucking needed that.

He'd still had Jack, of course – but it wasn't the same knowing that Gavin was pissed off at him, and the whole business had only stressed him out further. The pressure of the impending ordeal was a heavy weight on his shoulders and not having Gavin there to support him had been upsetting. He'd _missed_ him – and when the other man _finally_ smiled at him now, the relief was a nearly physical ache.

“Okay,” Gavin whispered, and Geoff let out a shaky breath, grinning back at him in relief. He squeezed Gavin's hand again, and the other man looked away.

“You know why I was mad, right?” he asked. “It's not that I don't want to be here to support you, just – this is really, really important to me.”

“I know,” Geoff assured him.

“I need to know where I came from. And if I miss my only opportunity...”

“You haven't,” Geoff said. “We'll find out, alright? We'll track the witches down or we'll find out some other way – I promise, as soon as all this is over, we'll get onto it. For now let's focus on beating the shit out of all the other kingdoms. Okay?”

“Okay,” Gavin replied, and smiled again. Geoff smiled back at him, and slung an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. Gavin didn't push him away this time, just hugged him back happily. The tip of his nose was cold where it pressed into Geoff's neck, but a warm fondness swelled up in his chest as he ruffled the other man's hair before tugging him back towards the rest of the party.

He looked over to see Jack watching them from over with the rest of the group. He was grinning – he'd been pestering him to make up with Gavin for days now (“As your royal advisor _and_ your friend, I'm gonna need you to get your shit together, Geoff. Just fucking talk to him already!”).

He'd had a point. Out on the road there was no room for drama – and there was certainly none now as they began to head down the hill towards the city, to Ryan's fortress – and to the games.

 

* * *

 

 

Down in the pit, everything was dark.

The high rock walls that rose up on every side of the valley blocked out the already weak sunlight, and lining the sides of the road leading to the city were twisted, misshapen boulders. In the sinking dusk they looked like the shadows of men and monsters, waiting to leap out at them. Riding down that road towards the red light of the city felt like walking through the end of the world.

But flanked by Jack on one side, and with Gavin now on the other, Geoff felt a lot more confident than he had earlier. Especially with his troops at his back. He'd brought more soldiers than everyone had agreed upon when they arranged the games, but he wasn't about to take chances.

Not when they were on Ryan's home turf.

He'd never been to this kingdom before – not physically, at least. Visiting in the dreamlike sensation of the Sight didn't compare to being here in person, where he could feel the chill of the stone around them, smell the metallic, mineral tang of the mines. There was a funny tingle in the air, raising the hair on the back of his neck, and he knew it was the Wild, beyond the cliffs. Ryan's Stoneworld was right on the border and when night fell mobs often wandered in from the jungles beyond.

The Wild, the most dangerous kingdom.

The one they were all here to fight for now.

The road passed by the entrances to the mines as they headed towards the enormous city gates. Men and women gathered to watch them pass; sallow-faced, unfriendly looking people who eyed the foreign king and his company with obvious suspicion. Geoff could only stare back at them, trying to force a smile.

Ryan's mother, the previous Queen Haywood, had been far from a beloved leader. But Geoff had heard little of what people thought of Ryan's current reign. All he knew was that in all his dealings with the other man so far, there had been something aloof and untrustworthy about him. Something scornful in how Ryan looked at him, and insincere about everything he spoke.

“Not exactly a warm welcome,” Jack murmured, leaning towards him, and Geoff could only nod.

He was relieved to leave the mines behind him. They were on the last stretch of the road leading towards the city gates when King Michael arrived at the same time.

“Stop!” Geoff called out over his shoulder, bringing his own troupe to a halt as he caught sight of the other man's party approaching from a different road into the pit, also headed for the front gate. They were impossible to miss, looking well out of place in the Stoneworld with their enormous furs, cloaks of animal skins shrouding every soldier – Geoff spotted bears, wolves, some sort of mountain cat – and their enormous horses with shaggy manes and feathered feet.

Michael had stuck to the guidelines. Thirty soldiers and no more, his group half the size of Geoff's. It seemed that _all_ he'd brought was soldiers, too – Geoff saw no advisors, no servants. Just the king himself riding alone at the front of the party.

“That's Michael?” Gavin asked quietly, next to him.

“ _King_ Michael to you,” Jack corrected gently. “And to me as well.”

Gavin glanced over at him. His lips twisted as he nodded. It wasn't a chastisement Jack had given him – just a reminder that not every royal was as informal with their subjects as Geoff. But Gavin was smart, he could take care of himself – Geoff wasn’t worried about him getting himself in trouble with the other kings. Though he often played the fool – literally – he was not as reckless as he always seemed. He knew when to be careful.

“He's so young,” Gavin added then, sounding a little taken aback.

Geoff could only nod, a bit surprised himself as Michael began to ride towards them. To be fair, he'd inherited his own crown at quite a young age, and none of the kings were particularly old (Ray was even younger, if he recalled) – but seeing Michael in person now, for the first time, was a bit disconcerting. Wrapped in furs, with wildly curly hair and a softness about his face, he resembled nothing so much as a teddy bear.

A teddy bear who happened to be-

“The strongest man in all the kingdoms,” Gavin continued, thoughtfully. “Quite a gift his crown gave him.”

And then, a second later:

“You're going to have to fight that, Geoffrey!”

“Shut up,” Geoff said, reaching out to pinch Gavin's nose; he couldn't reach, their horses were too far apart, but Gavin still leaned away and began snickering.

“What?” he asked. “It's true! Oh my God, what if you get into the ring and he picks you up with one hand and just _throws_ you? Could he do that? Is he really that powerful?”

“You're really filling me with confidence here,” Geoff muttered; Michael looked tiny atop his giant horse, but if the whispers were true, the Alpine crown would have gifted him with superhuman strength the second he put it on. The closer they got to the fortress, the more it was hitting him that he was actually going to have to _compete_ against the other kings. And if he wanted to win the crown, to beat all three of them.

And he really, really needed that crown.

Michael had seen them. He stopped riding and then lifted a hand and waved.

Gavin laughed, delighted, and started waving back so enthusiastically that he was in danger of falling off his horse.

“Stop that,” Geoff snapped. He reached out and managed to grab Gavin's wrist.

“What?” Gavin said indignantly. “He waved first!”

“We don't know what he's like,” Jack pointed out.

“What, is he gonna chop my head off for waving back?” Gavin demanded. “Either way, he's coming over here.”

Indeed, Michael had motioned for his men to stop and was riding towards them alone. Geoff let go of Gavin and straightened up.

He'd heard nothing but good reports of Michael and Ray since they both inherited their crowns. But he was still wary of a man he'd never met – especially one he was about to compete against.

“King Ramsey,” Michael called out, as he drew to a halt in front of them and nodded in greeting. Even close up he looked oddly soft – freckled face framed by curls and the fur of his cloak – but the size of his horse put him taller than Geoff, who nodded back.

“King Jones,” he replied. “I'm sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” Michael replied, upset flashing across his face. It had only been six months since the old Alpine king died and the crown passed to his only son. Together with the Wild king's death, that was two in the span of a year. Some might say it wasn't a good omen.

“We haven't met before,” Geoff continued. “But I believe you've met my advisor, Jack – he was my emissary to your late father's funeral.”

Jack half-bowed, as well as he could atop his horse, and Michael turned and stared at him. There was a very awkward pause before he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, rather uncertainly. “Well met.”

Geoff had to hold back a snort; it was clear that he didn't remember Jack at all. He couldn't blame him – at the time he must've been wrapped in grief at losing his father so suddenly. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't been paying attention to every guest that'd been sent along to the funeral.

“You brought a lot of soldiers,” Michael added then, quickly enough that it was apparent he was trying to change the subject. “That... looks like a hell of a lot more than thirty men to me.”

“I don't trust Ryan,” Geoff said flatly, and Michael raised his eyebrows.

“But isn't that against the rules?”

“Probably,” Geoff said, and shrugged, giving a lazy grin. “Maybe he won't notice?”

Michael snorted at that.

“I'm pretty sure he'll notice,” he said, and Geoff shrugged again.

“What's he gonna do about it?”

“Fucking kick you out and stop you from competing, that's what,” Michael replied, and Geoff flapped a dismissive hand.

“He isn't in charge of the games,” he said. “He has no more power to kick me out than you do. Besides, he's at an advantage. We're meeting here, on his territory, in _his_ castle, where his _entire army_ is stationed. I'm sure he can forgive me for taking some precautions.”

“I've heard he is not a very forgiving man,” Michael said slowly.

“I've heard a lot of things,” Geoff replied, and sighed, leaning in almost conspiratorially. “I've met Ryan several times. I definitely don't trust him, but I do believe that he means to avoid outright war. That's why he agreed to these games. He'll be sporting – at least until he doesn't win. That's when we need to be careful.”

“You really think that if he doesn't win, he'll go for the crown anyway?” Michael asked, and Geoff shrugged.

“I wouldn't put it past him.”

“But you'll stop him if he does.”

There was worry in Michael's voice, and Geoff glanced over at the other man's convoy, waiting patiently where he'd left them.

Exactly thirty men. All soldiers, people who could fight if push came to shove. It hit him suddenly that for someone who had never met Ryan before, who had so recently become king, it must be pretty terrifying to be expected to show up to Haywood's kingdom to fight in a big competition. Michael was obviously playing it careful, doing things exactly by the rules to avoid Ryan's wrath, and Geoff couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. He'd only been king six months, after all.

“I intend to compete honourably,” Geoff said. “And enforce the victor's right to attempt to get to the crown first.”

Michael looked relieved, then determined.

“As do I,” he said, and Geoff grinned at him.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, and Michael smiled tentatively back. There was a pause before Geoff looked around.

“No sign of Ray yet,” he said, and Michael perked up.

“I've been in contact with him, actually! He's running late,” he replied, “He had delays setting out. He should be here by tonight. Are we meant to just head in without him?” he added, glancing uncertainly over at the city gates. “No one came out to meet us so do we just... rock up to Ryan's fortress and knock on the door? To be honest I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.”

Gavin started laughing at that; his usual helpless, squeaking laughter whenever something funny startled him, and Michael turned towards him, eyebrows raised.

“Excuse my fool,” Geoff said, reaching out and trying to swat Gavin in the side; he squirmed sideways to avoid it.

“Excuse yourself,” he shot back, and Geoff glared at him.

“ _Gavin_ ,” he chided, but Michael was grinning openly now, looking between the two of them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“It's fine,” he said. “You brought your jester along?”

Geoff shrugged. “This place looks like it could do with some cheering up.”

“Yeah,” Gavin replied, looking around with barely disguised disgust. “There's no damn sun in here! No wonder they're such a miserable lot. I feel like if I tried to perform for them they'd just stare at me looking like they'd sucked a lemon. I guess I'll just... juggle rocks, or something.”

“Right,” Michael said, his lips twitching furiously. “Well, it's nice to meet you.”

Gavin stared at him, seeming a bit surprised that Michael had paid any attention to him. After a moment he smiled, and Michael smiled back. Geoff couldn't help but feel a swell of approval for the other king. The best indication of a person's character was how they treated their staff.

“Go gather your men,” he told Michael, who turned back to him. “We'll head in together.”

Michael nodded. He seemed relieved that Geoff had taken charge as he turned and rode back over. As he left, Geoff turned to Jack.

“He's young,” he said. “He's uncertain. It gives us an advantage.”

“Don't be so sure,” Jack murmured back. “Strongest man in the five kingdoms, if the Alpine crown's gift is to be believed. He might be young but don't doubt that he's here to win. Otherwise, why bother coming? Everyone wants to be the first king to have two gifts.”

“True,” Geoff nodded. He sighed as he looked over at Michael – then glanced at Gavin, who was also watching the other man thoughtfully. But a moment later Geoff shook himself, and nudged his horse to start walking again.

It was time to go and meet Ryan.

 

* * *

 

“The king is waiting for you,” Kerry said.

He'd met them just inside the gates and led them now towards the fortress in the centre of the city. Geoff didn't doubt that Ryan not coming to meet them himself was a deliberate ploy. Make them come to him – show that he was the one in charge here, the one comfortable in his own home while the rest of them were merely visitors.

And it was certainly unsettling, to be in another man's domain, especially one so different from his own home. He wouldn't care to live in the Stoneworld; even the city was bleak, with everything built of the same grey rock and lit up by redstone torches on the walls. The crimson light was unnatural. There was something artificial about the heat and light that it gave off, but Geoff knew that it was a much stronger power source than fuels like wood or coal. In the barren Stoneworld energy was everything – and as the man in control of the redstone, Ryan literally held his people's lives in his hand.

Kerry had been a surprise.

The short, soft-spoken man had not been the sort of person Geoff expected as King Ryan's right hand. But he was the one who now led them up to the imposing fortress, into the courtyard, and right to the doors of the great hall.

“The servants will help your men with the horses, and then show them to their quarters,” he said. “I will deal with your mounts personally. The king is in the hall.”

“Thank you,” Geoff replied. “Give us a moment.”

Kerry nodded, getting off his own horse and leading it away, and Geoff dismounted alongside Jack and Gavin.

“Stay out here,” he murmured. “Jack, you start looking around. See how the games have been set up. Gavin, get talking to Kerry. Ask him about Ryan, see if he can tell you anything.”

"You sure you don't want one of us to go in with you?” Jack asked, but Geoff shook his head.

“Ryan's expecting a meeting of kings. I don't want him paying attention to you just yet. Especially you, Gav,” he added.

Gavin nodded. Geoff eyed him suspiciously for a moment – despite his reluctance to come here, he could see the curiosity in the fool's eyes now as he looked around at the stone courtyard, the shimmering glint of redstone that made the whole place seem cast in a permanent dusk, and Ryan's black-clad servants with their blank faces as they moved in to help them. The supposed 'Mad King' was an object of fear, but also of intrigue. But even if Gavin was invisible to most noblemen, Geoff didn't want him falling on Ryan's radar.

Gavin noticed him watching him, and gave a grin that really wasn't reassuring.

“I got it, Geoff,” he said, and Geoff raised his eyebrows.

“Just be careful,” he said, and Gavin nodded before leading his own horse off in the direction Kerry had gone.

“You be careful too,” Jack muttered, and Geoff glanced over to see the worry in his eyes.

“I can handle Ryan,” he replied, but Jack just raised his eyebrows. He reached out and squeezed Geoff's shoulder, and Geoff's eyes shut for a moment as he leaned into the touch. It had been a long time since he felt this nervous, this unsure of himself. But there were endless reasons why he needed to _win this_ – the problem was, he wasn't certain he _could_.

But Jack's hand was very warm on his shoulder, his touch a grounding, reassuring reminder that the two of them had been through a hell of a lot together and always come out fine. He was here by Geoff's side as usual – Gavin too – and when he opened his eyes and saw the other man smiling at him, he felt much better.

“I'll see you later,” Jack murmured, and Geoff nodded, turning away.

Michael was standing nearby, watching them. There was open curiosity on his face as his gaze followed Jack walking away, but he didn't say anything as Geoff came over to him. It was pretty telling that Michael had waited for him before going inside. It seemed Geoff wasn't the only one who was nervous.

“Come on then,” Geoff said, and Michael nodded, relief flashing across his face as Geoff took the lead into the castle.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome,” Ryan said as they entered.

The great hall was an imposing room; with an enormously high ceiling and walls lined by huge columns, every footstep echoed through the stone room ominously. Geoff felt like he was in a cathedral, or some ancient tomb. It didn't help that the redstone lamps on the walls had everything awash with bloody light. It made him think of carrion, of the sky the morning after a battle, stained with the blood of fallen men.

And there was Ryan, standing with his back to them – dramatic as always - staring out the window. Somehow Geoff always forgot how tall he was in person; with his hands clasped behind his back, his crown settled atop his head, and the sinking light coming through the window casting a dreadful halo around him, he radiated power and control.

“King Haywood,” Michael replied.

He started to bow – it must've come automatically, used to being a prince rather than a king – but Geoff caught his arm and pulled him upright again before Ryan could turn and see. Michael shot him a surprised glance, and Geoff shook his head minutely.

Ryan was certainly not about to bow to _them_ , and the last thing Geoff wanted to do was reinforce who was and was not in control here.

“Ryan,” he himself said, and Ryan finally turned. The ruby gemstone at the front of his crown shimmered in the light from the window as he walked towards them. Geoff wished he had his own crown on; it was uncomfortable to wear and travel in, but he felt profoundly naked without it.

“You're both late,” Ryan said. “We expected you yesterday.”

“The Stoneworld is difficult to travel through,” Geoff replied, and Ryan raised his eyebrows.

“To those unused to its terrain, yes. I see King Ray has not yet joined us.”

“He was delayed,” Michael spoke up, and Ryan's impassive gaze turned towards him. Michael lifted his chin, staring back at him confidently, but Geoff could see how tense his shoulders were, and he knew Ryan wouldn't miss it either.

“I see,” was all Ryan replied. “Well, you're both very welcome here. I'm glad we could all come to this understanding. If you will...?”

He gestured towards a table by the side of the room, and they followed him over to it. A large map was spread out across its surface, and Geoff couldn't help but stare at it approvingly. It was a beautiful piece of work, each territory painted in loving detail.

The five kingdoms that made up their world had naturally clear borders. Some called them 'biomes,' for they were each such distinct terrains. The plains, Geoff's territory, were the largest, taking up the entire centre of the map. To one side of him were Michael's mountainous alps, and just beyond that, Ray's desert kingdom. To the north was the Stoneworld, and beyond that, the Wild – a dark, tangled jungle where they said some ancient city had long fallen to ruins. Where temples had been overgrown and monsters ran rampant.

Five kingdoms. Five crowns. Five gifts, powers that allowed each king or queen to maintain control over their territory.

“The games will take place over three days,” Ryan said then. His finger traced delicately across the Stoneworld. “Tomorrow, the duels. The day after, chess. And finally, archery. The winner of each round gets ten points, the runner up gets five, and third place gets three. Whoever has the most points by the end of the games has first right to go and claim the crown, without anyone else interfering. Is this agreeable?”

“Sounds fair to me,” Geoff replied, and beside him, Michael nodded.

They had all felt the king of the Wild die.

Just the same way that Geoff had felt Michael's father die – a sudden shock that ran through him, a shiver down his spine and a nagging emptiness after that. And the second Michael had put on the crown in turn and claimed the Alpine gift, he'd felt that too – a flood of warmth, like the final piece of a puzzle had been completed.

But no one had claimed the Wild crown yet.

The problem was, no one had ever conquered the kingdom properly. It was by far the most dangerous – overrun by monsters that came out at night. Draugr. Zombies. Endermen. And creepers, which Geoff had heard terrible tales of, but never seen.

The gift of the Wild crown was the ability to control the mobs. To communicate with and command them. In the wrong hands, they could be used as terrible weapons. Used for good, they could be kept away from the cities, so that citizens might be kept safe.

But the Wild had an awful history. There was no civilisation, no royal family the way the Haywoods had always occupied the Stoneworld, the Ramseys the plains, and so forth. For years the Wild had been a place where escaped criminals ran to hide, where thieves and bandits lurked, and the crown had passed between these vagabonds with no one ever bothering to drive out the monsters and properly take control. Rather, whoever had been king had never even bothered to make contact with any of the other kingdoms. Just sat in the ancient ruins of the castle there doing God knew what.

And now they had died.

And now there was a crown for the taking, and whoever put it on first would receive the gift. Would be bound to the crown and to the Wild until they died.

Geoff had been surprised when Ryan contacted him – surprised, but not unhappy. He'd assumed that the other man would be immediately racing to get to the crown himself.

The Stoneworld was so close to the Wild that Ryan had a massive advantage. But he had to know that the others wouldn't have given up without a fight, and it had been surprisingly diplomatic of him to reach out to Geoff and suggest the games.

Diplomatic, but not necessarily generous.

The Wild was a dangerous place – and a big place – and the crown could be anywhere inside. Ryan could have spent months wandering in there without finding it, and by then the others would have caught up and started searching for it too.

But Geoff had the advantage of the Sight, his own crown gift. The agreement was a simple one: in exchange for Geoff pinpointing the location of the crown, every king would be given a fair chance to win it. It was the simplest way to avoid war. The Wild was dangerous enough without them killing each other trying to get to the crown first.

“Good,” Ryan said. His hand slipped from the map, moving to brace himself against the edge of the table instead as he looked up at Geoff. “So where is it?”

Geoff's eyes narrowed, searching for some trick – but Ryan's face was perfectly calm, and Michael was watching him too.

“I found the king's body in a cave,” he said. “It's several hours on foot from the border. It looks like he was exploring down a ravine – I'm not sure why – and something in the cave killed him.”

“What could have killed him?” Michael demanded. “He controls the mobs!”

“Another human?” Ryan asked, then shook his head. “No, they would have taken the crown.”

“Whatever it was, it fucking tore him apart,” Geoff said with a grimace. That hadn't been fun, the night he had used the Sight to locate the dead king and the crown. He'd been expecting to find him keeled over of old age or sickness in the castle – not reduced to a gory mess in a dark cave. “But the crown is there with his body. Not hard to get to if you travel in the daytime to avoid mobs, but what I'm worried about is whatever killed him still being in there.”

“Well,” Ryan said. “We'll deal with that when we come to it. Whoever wins first gets the first shot at going in to find it.”

“And if they die?” Michael asked. “There'll be two crowns to collect.”

“None of us has an heir,” Geoff added with a frown. “Does whoever goes in next get the other person's crown too? Or do they bring it back out to return to the kingdom? Because that's placing a hell of a lot of trust in them to do the right thing.”

“Don't die and we won't have to find out,” Ryan suggested, very helpfully.

“No, we need rules,” Michael insisted. “How about if someone dies going to collect it and theirs gets lost in there too, the next person doesn't go in unless there's someone from the dead king's kingdom with them to collect the other crown?”

“That's a good idea,” Geoff said, and Michael shot him a small smile.

Ryan was watching the two of them impassively.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “We can't take too long collecting the Wild crown. We don't want it to fall into the hands of some vagabond again. It _has_ to be one of us. The last king, whoever the hell he was, was no true leader. He may have had the power to control the mobs, but he never fucking used it. They've constantly been crossing the border and coming into my territory for years.”

Geoff grimaced. He was certainly glad that the plains were far enough away from the Wild that he didn't have to deal with the monsters that emerged at night. Michael was frowning too, now, and Ryan's words had given a sense of urgency to the whole competition. It was only adding to the stress.

“Any questions?” Ryan asked, after a moment of silence passed.

“What if it's a draw?” Michael asked.

Ryan shot him a rather disdainful look.

“We set another challenge for the two winners, obviously,” he said, and Michael bit his lip, looking away.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll explain all this to Ray when he comes, then.”

“Is that all you have to ask?” Ryan asked, and Michael's jaw clenched.

“Yes,” he replied flatly.

“Then I'd like to speak to Geoff alone,” Ryan said, glancing up at Geoff. And then, when Michael didn't move immediately, he waved his hands at him. “Go on, shuffle along now.”

Michael went pale with rage. For a moment Geoff thought he was going to punch Ryan – his hand went to the hilt of his sword and both of them stiffened. But then he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, storming out of the room. The huge doors slammed shut behind him and Geoff grimaced.

Ryan was gazing after Michael with something like smug amusement on his face, and it had Geoff's blood boiling.

“Do not speak to him like that,” he snapped. “You ought to show him respect. He's as much a king as you and I.”

“He is an untempered boy,” Ryan scoffed, and Geoff stepped towards him angrily.

“No, he's not. He isn't that much younger than us – and we were both as young when _we_ inherited.”

“Hm,” was all Ryan said. “I suppose he will prove his worth in the ring tomorrow.”

“Of all of us,” Geoff warned, “His gift will be the most useful to him. Superhuman strength – that gives him an advantage. So you may want to avoid crossing him before the match.”

“I will keep it in mind,” Ryan said drily. He turned away, looking down at the map again, while Geoff watched him in silence, wondering what he'd wanted to say to him.

Finally Ryan looked up at him again.

“I can't help but notice how many soldiers you've brought,” he said. Geoff pulled a face, and Ryan laughed, scornfully. “What, did you think I wouldn't know how to count? Our agreement was thirty.”

“Your entire fucking army is here,” Geoff spat. “So don't hold it against me if I'd like a _little_ extra security.”

“You don't trust me,” Ryan said flatly, and Geoff folded his arms.

“No,” he replied. “I really don't.”

Ryan was silent for a long moment, tracing his finger around the map. After a while he sighed, and when he looked up his face was cold as he stepped towards Geoff, who stood his ground.

“I saved your life, you know,” he said, and Geoff blinked at him.

“What?”

Ryan's lips twitched, but there was no humour in his smile as he moved in close and stared down at Geoff.

“Years ago,” he said. “Before either of us had inherited. My mother was planning to ask your father to arrange a marriage between us. Combine our kingdoms to become the most powerful force. Think about it – your agriculture. My minerals. We would have had every resource in the land at our disposal.”

“What the _fuck_ , Ryan,” Geoff said, head spinning – _marriage?_ He hadn't heard a fucking thing about _that_.

“My mother's plan, of course,” Ryan continued, “Was for me to wait until you inherited the crown, and then poison you and take your gift and your lands for my own. But I refused to do it. She couldn't make me – without my cooperation, she'd never have been able to convince your father that we were sincere about the marriage.”

Geoff could only stare at him, aghast. After a moment Ryan leaned in, so close Geoff could feel his breath against his ear.

“If I wanted you dead, Ramsey,” he whispered, “You would have been dead years ago.”

Geoff stepped back away from him, something uncomfortable crawling up his spine. Ryan was staring at him, his blue eyes frighteningly intense – but scariest of all was that Geoff had no idea what was running through his head. If he was telling the truth. And if he _was_ – then why he'd tell Geoff this now. Why he would have saved his life in the _first_ place.

He couldn't think of anything to say, and after a moment Ryan raised his eyebrows and took a step back.

“You seem nervous about this competition,” he said – Geoff jolted; he'd been certain he was hiding it well - “I have heard... whispers, of uprisings in your kingdom. Political struggles. Lords and barons trying to take over, to turn the people against you.”

Geoff stiffened, and he knew Ryan had noticed.

“It must be difficult,” he continued, “To control such an enormous city. After all, the plains are huge – all your cities are spread out. You rule from the capital but your barons can get up to gods know what in the rest of the place.”

“That's what the Sight's for,” Geoff said, voice tight. “It allows me to communicate with those outer cities, to keep an eye on them.”

“Not well enough, if the rumours are to be believed,” Ryan said. “But with the Wild crown you'd cement your power. Prove your worth as king and be able to settle the unrest in your kingdom. You really, really need to win this, Geoff – and from my experience, desperation breeds treachery. And carelessness.”

“ _Treachery_?” Geoff snapped. His skin was crawling but above all he felt _scared_ – scared that Ryan knew so much about him. Scared that he was right. Scared that if he failed he would have far greater problems on his hands than just some other king taking the crown. “You'd fucking accuse _me_ of treachery? We've all heard the stories about you, Ryan. How secret you keep everything you do in this kingdom. How you refuse to let any outsiders in here to visit. Just now you admitted that your mother was plotting to _kill_ me!”

“I've let you in now, haven't I?” Ryan asked, voice cold. “And I am not my mother. I told you that story because I find it... laughable, that we could be married right now if events had gone a different way.”

“ _Laughable_ ,” Geoff cried in disbelief. “Yes, Ryan, it's _hilarious_. Gods above. I don't even want to think about being married to you.”

“Your loss,” Ryan said drily, and shrugged. “Either way, you are safe here. You have nothing to fear from me. I agreed to the rules of this competition just as the rest of you did. And I trust that, in turn, you will respect my hospitality. Who have you brought with you?”

Geoff stared at him for a long moment, but Ryan's face gave nothing away.

“My advisor,” he said finally. “Jack. My soldiers. Some courtiers. That's all. As long as you don't try anything,” he added, “We won't either.”

“Good,” Ryan replied, and returned to studying the map.

 _Plotting how big his territory will be if he wins the crown,_ Geoff thought bitterly, staring at the other man's back – the line of his shoulders where he was hunched over the table, the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck, the strong line of his jaw that he could see from here.

 _Married,_ he thought in disbelief, unable now to stop entertaining the thought of what _that_ might have been like, even without Ryan's mother's little murder-plot. The two kingdoms joined – a husband at his side – and _Ryan,_ no less. Cunning Ryan who he had heard was not just a master swordsman but an intellectual, a scientist, who worked on secret projects here in the Stoneworld. Ryan who created redstone with a touch, who powered his kingdom with his gift, who was the beating heart of light and heat in the Stoneworld. _That_ man as his husband?

_What a fucking thought!_

 

* * *

 

Michael burst out of the great hall into the courtyard. It was empty now, the two parties having headed off to their quarters, and he was glad to be alone as he marched into the centre of the space and paused, fists clenched, fuming.

It was very cold out here. With night falling, combined with everything being made of stone, there was a brisk chill in the air that seemed to seep into his very bones. But inside he was burning with anger at Ryan's disrespect, his condescension.

 _Fuck him_ , was all he could think, eloquently. _Fuck him, fuck him,_ fuck _him-_

And under the anger, _hurt_ , and an uncertain sort of fear. He was acutely aware of his place as the newest king, as one of the youngest – that he'd only held his crown and his throne for six months – that he hadn't proven himself the way the others had yet. It was an uncomfortable position to be in, and while he was usually confident enough not to give a flying fuck what anyone else thought about him, there was something about Ryan that had him on edge-

And something about Ramsey that made him want to _impress_ him.

 _Fucking Ryan_ , he thought again, and kicked angrily at an uneven paving stone on the ground. _I'll show him. Just wait until Ray gets here_.

The thought had a grin spreading across his face.

 _Yes – when Ray gets here – then he'll see. It'll be fucking_ glorious.

Taking a few deep breaths, he turned back to the hall only to freeze as he realised he wasn't alone after all.

Geoff's fool – Gavin, he remembered his name was – was lurking by the side of the courtyard. He seemed to be waiting for Geoff to come out from the hall – was leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around himself. As Michael watched, he rubbed his arms vigorously and then tugged at his scarf, unwinding it slightly and trying to wrap it around himself like a blanket.

Michael paused, before approaching him on impulse. It had been curious, watching the fool with the king. It was not common to see a king so close with his subjects. There was something so comfortable about the way they'd behaved with each other that made Michael wonder about their relationship – and almost long for it himself. He had close friends among his own soldiers – men he'd grown up with, trained with, led through the perils of the mountains – but none who dared behave quite that casually with him, especially since he became king.

And in the bleakness of the Stoneworld, and Ryan's own cold attitude, there was something very appealing about someone who was here solely to make people _laugh_.

“Are you cold?” Michael asked, approaching him.

Gavin straightened up, looking startled to see Michael talking to him. For a moment he looked like he might bow, but Michael waved a hand to stop him.

“I'm fine, my lord. Thank you,” he replied, and Michael bit his lip. He was still uncomfortable with the way people had been treating him since he became king – the officiousness was unfamiliar and kept making him feel like he was playing dress-up in his father's clothes, like he was trapped in some ill-fitting role.

“Call me Michael,” he said, and Gavin looked surprised, but nodded.

“Michael,” he said, and grinned. “I'm fine! My scarf is actually really warm.”

Michael tilted his head. The scarf was strange; it was more like a blanket or shawl that he'd wrapped around his neck, a mottled green and black colour of some peculiar fabric that he'd never seen before.

“What's that made of?” he asked, curiously, and something odd flashed across Gavin's face for a second.

“I actually have no idea,” he replied, and Michael blinked.

“Okay... you're strange,” he said, and Gavin gave a funny little giggle.

“Says the guy dressed in bear skins! Did you kill that bear?”

“I did,” Michael said proudly, only for Gavin to pull a face. “What?”

“But that's so _mean_ , Michael. What if it had a little bear family?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Haven't you ever heard of bloody Goldilocks? Those three bears were a family, weren't they? And you've gone and killed off Mummy Bear. Now who will cook the porridge for them?”

“I assure you, this bear was not living in a fucking cottage cooking porridge,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “You've obviously never been to the alps. The place is overrun by wild animals – aggressive ones too – and the temperature plummets in the winter. There are massive storms, landslides – you need to be strong to survive there.”

“Well, that's me dead then,” Gavin said, deadpan, and Michael barked out a startled laugh.

“Yeah? What are you good at?”

“I can walk on my hands,” Gavin informed him. “Do you reckon that'd confuse a bear enough that I could escape?”

“...no.”

“Well, damn it,” Gavin said, and Michael couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the entire conversation was. Gavin's eyes crinkled as he smiled back, and it was such a refreshing change from people either staring at him or bowing to him that he felt the tension leach from his shoulders.

Only for Gavin to ask, a second later:

“What were you so mad about, storming out of there, then? If you don't mind me asking.”

Michael scowled immediately, his previous annoyance flooding back in.

“Ryan's an asshole,” he snapped. “He kicked me out because he wanted to talk to Geoff privately. But he was being real fucking condescending about it. I could tell he was thinking I shouldn't be here, just because I haven’t been king all that long. He looked at me like I was a stupid child. As if I couldn't fuck him up with my pinkie finger.”

“Sounds like a right prick,” Gavin said, and Michael nodded vigorously. “You should have roared at him.”

“I should have _what_?”

“Roared at him,” Gavin said. “You should have roared and growled at him like a bear. Like you were perfectly serious about it. You should have said _I'll wear_ your _skin next!_ He would have found that well weird. It'd mess with his head.”

“What the fuck, Gavin,” was really all Michael could respond to that with. “You're so _strange_.”

Gavin just shrugged.

“If it's any consolation,” he said, “Geoff really doesn't like him either.”

“I gathered that,” Michael said. “How well do they know each other? They've met before, right?”

“A few times,” Gavin replied, and chewed at his lip, his eyes fixed on the doors of the great hall. Michael followed his gaze, wondering just what the other two kings were talking about behind there. “Both when they were growing up as princes and afterwards, once they were crowned. But they're definitely not friends. The previous Queen Haywood was a real shifty bird, right, always seemed on the brink of war with Geoff's kingdom. But when they were arranging the games, Geoff came here through the Sight to set out the terms of the competition with Ryan. That was the last time they spoke.”

“What is this Sight?” Michael asked. “I don't quite understand how it works.”

Normally he'd be loathe to show his ignorance, especially as the newest king – let alone to a commoner. But it felt different with Gavin somehow, and the other man just nodded understandingly.

“The Sight is the gift of the plains crown,” he said. “It's like... mind travel, sort of. Geoff's body stays where it is, but his mind travels and explores enormous distances, and he can see what's going on in real time. It means that he can keep an eye on everything that happens in his kingdom. If he concentrates, he can make himself appear as a spectre and talk to people – so it's useful for communicating with the barons and leaders of the other cities in the plains, since the kingdom's so big and it'd take weeks for us to send mail otherwise.”

“So he could literally just fucking spy on me in my kingdom, at any time, and I'd have no idea,” Michael said – Gavin shook his head.

“To use the Sight that far takes up a huge amount of energy, so he doesn't do it often. It took a lot out of him just to have a conversation with Ryan, and even more to go out and find the Wild crown. Don't worry,” he added with a grin, “He's not creeping on you.”

“Good,” Michael said, rather relieved.

“What's it like?” Gavin asked, and turned towards him again, eyes bright and curious. “Having a crown gift.”

“...it's a responsibility,” Michael replied after a moment. He paused, thinking it hard to explain – hard for anyone who wasn't a king themselves to understand – but Gavin was staring at him intently, and he pushed on. “It's always been kind of strange, actually, knowing that the second my father passed away I'd have to put that damn crown on as fast as possible in case someone else grabbed it first. The moment it's on your head you've got the gift and suddenly you're the best person suited to be king. I'd been training for it my whole life and to suddenly _have_ that gift – that extra strength – it was hard to adjust to at first.”

“So it really doesn't matter if you're the blood heir or not,” Gavin said slowly. “The first person to put on the crown after the previous person dies gets to be king.”

“That's how it works,” Michael said. “The gift gives you the right to rule. That's why the Wild crown has been causing trouble for so long. Because random assholes with no sense of responsibility keep getting their hands on it.”

“Hmmm,” was all Gavin said in response to that. He seemed thoughtful for a moment, then shook himself, turning back to Michael with a grin. “In any case, your gift gives you a hell of an advantage in some of the challenges! Do you reckon you'll win?”

“I don't know,” Michael replied, surprising himself with his own honesty. “Advantage in the combat challenge, maybe, but I'm shit at chess and I don't know how good the others are at archery. Why? You reckon Geoff's gonna win?”

“Geoff is an all rounder,” Gavin replied thoughtfully.

“Then he might have an advantage too,” Michael said. “I mean, I can't exactly just snap the fucking chessboard in half if I'm losing, can I?”

Gavin laughed, seeming delighted by the possibility.

“I'm pretty sure that'd disqualify you, but I'd love to see Geoff's face if you did it. What about King Ray? I know little about him. What's his gift?”

“Nothing that advantages him,” Michael replied immediately, perking up at the mention of Ray. “He makes things grow. Wherever he walks, the land becomes fertile. His kingdom is in the desert but his cities are arable because whoever is king brings life to the ground. Ray's not good at physical combat,” he added. “But he's been practicing chess since he heard we were having the games, and he's always been good at archery. So the sword fighting will be his main disadvantage.”

“You know you're allowed to put a champion in to perform in your place in any of the challenges,” Gavin pointed out, and Michael pressed his lips together.

“He won't,” he said. “Neither will I. You lose respect that way.”

“Is respect worth the crown?”

“That depends,” Michael said darkly. “For Ray and I, it is.”

Ray had only been made king two years ago, after the sudden deaths of both of his parents. Both of them had had to weigh up the importance of going to fight for the crown against having to leave their kingdoms for a month, considering they were so new and so young. But even if they didn't win, it was an important show for their people that they were willing to compete.

Gavin was watching him, a curious, bird-like tilt to his head.

“You seem to know a lot about him,” he said, and Michael couldn't help his fond smile.

“We've known each other since we were children,” he said. “We're close to the same age, and our families have always been allies. He used to spend summers with me, and I'd spend winters with him. Even after we got too old to be away from the kingdom so long, we'd write to each other regularly, and we visited each other after we both inherited.”

Gavin took this in for a moment, and then beamed.

“Awwww!” he said, loudly. “You're pen pals!”

“What?” Michael spluttered. “No, we're not _pen pals_ , we just... correspond regularly!”

“You're _pen pals_ , Michael, that's so _lovely_.”

“You fucking make it sound like we're twelve years old!” Michael snapped, but it was too late, Gavin had dissolved into fits of squeaky giggles. Normally Michael might have been angry at being laughed at, but there was something so infectious about Gavin's amusement. It was like watching a little child laugh; he couldn't help smiling at him and after a moment, chuckling himself.

Finally Gavin recovered himself. He looked over at Michael and his smile only widened when he realised the other king was grinning at him.

“I have never seen Ray before,” he announced. “I'm quite curious.”

“How about you?” Michael asked. “How do you know Geoff?”

Gavin's smile faltered a little, and he glanced towards the hall again, his face softening into something not unhappy, but somewhat nostalgic.

“He took me in when I was younger,” he said. “Not child-young. I must have been nineteen, twenty when he found me and we became friends. Geoff's special like that.”

“What were you doing?” Michael asked.

“Various things,” Gavin said, lips stretching into another funny grin. “I was in the circus for a while. Then picking pockets on the street. I guess my natural charm just won Geoff over because instead of having me arrested, he appointed me as his court fool. Probably because I made the coins I'd just stolen from him appear from his ear a second later. I was all, _look, you had them the whole time!_ ”

“Gods,” Michael could only scoff. “You robbed a _king_?”

“Look, he was dressed like a commoner because he wanted to sneak into some bawdy looking pubs in Old Town,” Gavin said indignantly, and Michael could only shake his head.

“Okay,” he said, bemused. “How did you end up in the circus, then?”

Gavin's smile became very strained.

“My path in life has been very tangled,” he replied.

“The fuck does that mean? Who are your parents?”

“I don't know,” Gavin said, and Michael bit his lip, feeling suddenly awkward.

“An orphan, then?” he asked quietly.

“Apparently.” Gavin wrapped his arms around himself again, kicking at the ground. “I don't know where I come from.”

There was an uncomfortable sort of silence before Michael reached out and gently touched his arm. Gavin jumped a little, turning to him wide eyed.

“I'm sorry,” Michael said quietly. “It must be hard not to know. Things like that are important.”

“They are,” Gavin agreed, but then seemed to brighten up again, his smile reappearing. “But don't worry! I'm going to find out. After these games are over Geoff is going to help me try and track them down. I have some ideas where to start.”

He tugged at the ends of his scarf, pulling it tighter around his neck, and Michael nodded.

“It is good that Geoff has a friend with him,” he said, feeling bad enough about digging up Gavin's past to try and change the topic as soon as possible. “And someone to entertain him.”

“You haven't got a court fool yourself?”

“It's not common in my kingdom,” Michael replied.

“Oh,” Gavin said, and grinned at him. “Well, I may perform for you later, depending on what happens at dinnertime. I don't eat things, though.”

“...what?”

“You know those people who eat fire, or swallow swords and things?” Gavin said, and pulled a horrendous face. “None of that rubbish. No _mouth business_. Nothing goes down this throat that has to come back out.”

“I... what?” Michael could only ask, helplessly confused; Gavin had given him a very strange, intense look at _mouth business_ and he had no idea what was going on; if he was joking or trying to be suggestive or _what_.

“I have an awful gag reflex,” Gavin continued, and after a moment Michael just shook his head.

“I... okay?” he said, and broke down laughing, so confused that he didn't know what to think.

Gavin just continued to grin his crooked grin at him, eyes bright. He was such an intriguing little creature that Michael couldn't help but feel drawn to him. There was something of the sun in him, in his golden hair and green eyes and tanned skin, something that seemed very warm and bright here in this cold, stone land.

Abruptly, a loud, low horn blast rang out, and they both jumped at the sound. It was the same horn that had blown when they arrived in the city and Kerry went to greet them. Echoing through the stone courtyard, it sounded like the mournful call of some great, ancient creature, and both of them looked around in alarm.

"Who is that?” Gavin asked.

“Ray must be here!” Michael cried, sudden excitement shooting through him. “I wasn't expecting him until tonight!”

Suddenly his heart was pounding, his nerves fired up again at the thought.

_Ray's here, Ray's here, it's time-_

The hall doors opened and Ryan and Geoff emerged. Others were already entering the courtyard, or looking out the windows of the castle – servants, officials, their own soldiers, summoned by the blast of the horn. Michael saw Jack appear from one of the doors and exchange a glance with Geoff, who then looked around until his gaze settled on Gavin and they locked eyes for a moment.

A messenger hurried up to Ryan's side and leaned in to whisper in his ear. He nodded, and turned to address all of them.

“King Ray is in the city,” he declared. “Kerry will be bringing him here.”

As more people entered the courtyard, awaiting Ray's arrival, they arranged themselves in something of an order; Ryan standing before the hall doors, Geoff by his side, the members of Haywood's court flanking them on either side. Michael looked around only to find that Gavin had vanished with a funny sort of practiced ease; he looked around but couldn't see him, and was quickly distracted himself by going up to take his own position at Geoff's other side. The other king looked down on him and forced a small smile, but he looked rattled, and Michael frowned, wondering what Ryan had said to him in there.

And there they stood, awaiting the last king. There was something tense in the air around them, now – it was different to when Michael and Geoff had arrived. The competition would start once Ray got there, and the fight for the last crown would become real.

It was not long before they heard the thunderous clatter of horses' hooves against the stone roads outside the fortress. Only moments later, the large doors into the courtyard were swinging open to let in the royal party.

And there was Ray, sitting atop his steed. Michael's breath caught at the sight of him.

In the colourless, red-washed Stoneworld, the bright oranges and greens of the clothes worn by the desert kingdom were a welcome reprieve, and Ray looked particularly radiant. There were red flowers threaded through his horse's mane, in the hair of all his people and their steeds, still fresh and beautiful despite how far they'd travelled. They didn't call him the Rose King for nothing; his gift made him seem to breathe fresh life into the stifling stone space the second he entered.

“King Ray,” Ryan's voice boomed out. “Welcome. With your arrival the games begin.”

“Apologies for my lateness,” Ray replied, and Ryan just nodded.

Michael could only stare at Ray, his heart pounding. He'd seen him recently – just over a month ago – but it was still nice to have him here in person, now, a warm relief flooding through at the sight of a friend and _ally_ being here at last. It was comforting, and he couldn't help his smile as he watched Ray dismount, handing his reins to one of his men before moving up to the rest of the kings. He was small compared to Ryan, but somehow still seemed to hold his ground as he reached out and clasped the king's hand.

“King Haywood,” he said. “King Ramsey.”

To Geoff, he bowed, and Geoff nodded his head in return; Ryan's eyebrows rose, but Geoff was the oldest king and it wasn't uncommon for him to be shown a little more propriety.

Then Ray turned to Michael, and their eyes finally met. Michael knew he was grinning stupidly, but couldn't bring himself to care. A mischievous smile had spread across Ray's face as well.

“Michael,” he said softly, and leaned in and hugged him tightly. Michael hugged him back, squeezing him just as hard. He breathed in the smell of flowers, the red roses that always seemed to hang around Ray. He could feel the other man trembling, knew he was shaking himself, suddenly barely holding back his own nerves. Not bad nerves. _Excited_ nerves.

“I've been waiting for you,” he said quietly, and Ray pulled back. Their eyes met again and Ray tilted his head, something encouraging in his eyes.

“Yeah?” he said, and Michael nodded.

_Here we go._

He dropped to one knee so suddenly that someone behind him gasped, seeming to think he'd fainted. But it quickly became apparent that he was digging in a pouch at his waist – Ray stared down at him, patiently, a little smile tugging at his lips – only moments later he produced a ring and held it up, staring up at Ray earnestly.

He heard the crowd hush around him. In the final fading dregs of light from the sky above, mixed with the glow of the redstone torches on the walls, the small diamond embedded in the ring sent sparkling shimmers around the entire courtyard. Everyone had gone silent, and he could practically feel the shock radiating from the onlookers.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he heard Geoff mutter next to him, and ignored him, swallowing hard.

“King Ray Narvaez of the desert kingdom,” Michael said, voice loud and clear. “Will you marry me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Angelology, armadil-lauren, greatahw, rocketpac, ramabear, freshzombiewriter, emi-d-123, gotmogared, and themadqueenrose for their help with this chapter <3


	2. Chapter 2

 

The second the bedroom door shut behind them, Ray and Michael both burst into fits of excited snickers.

“Oh my God,” Ray gasped, barely getting the words out. “Did you see the look on Geoff's _face_?”

Michael nodded furiously.

“Like he was waiting for a dick to go in his mouth,” he said, and pulled a rather unflattering imitation of said face – eyes bulging, mouth stretched wide open. It had Ray breaking down laughing again, especially when Michael began making some rather biologically incorrect _glugging_ noises.

“Stop, stop, that's terrible,” Ray managed, and Michael started laughing as well. After a moment he collapsed onto the enormous bed, and Ray sank down next to him as they both tried to catch their breath.

Ryan had certainly been generous in the living quarters he'd assigned to his guests. Despite the rather bare and unattractive exterior of his fortress, the bedchambers were covered in plush carpets, with tapestries covering the stone walls and the redstone lamps on the walls letting out a softer glow than the harsh crimson lights around the rest of the castle.

He'd been tired from travel – especially since they'd been riding hard to make up for their delays when setting out from the desert – but the closer they'd gotten to Ryan's kingdom, the more the adrenaline had pumped up inside of him as they got closer and closer and he knew that he and Michael were about to pull off their plan.

Now that he'd stopped laughing, the exhaustion flooded back in, and he let his head loll back against the pillow beside Michael's. He lazily lifted up a hand and looked at the ring on his finger, the little diamond shimmering prettily in the lamplight.

Michael glanced over at him and then held up his hand, too, a matching band around his own ring finger. He reached across and grasped Ray's hand for a moment.

“My husband-to-be,” Ray said, and Michael snorted out a laugh and dropped his hand.

“Gods, it sounds strange to hear you say that,” he murmured, and Ray's lips twitched.

“I saw the look on Ryan's face when you proposed,” he said. “Never thought I'd see the Mad King look surprised. But he recovered remarkably quickly and I could tell – he knows what this means. Geoff too.”

“Good,” Michael replied fiercely. “Then they'll know we're not messing around here.”

Marriage was a tricky thing in their world, particularly between royal families. And at a time like this, on the brink of the games and with another crown hanging in the balance, it was a show of power more than anything. A symbol of an alliance between the desert and Alpine kingdoms – a sign that Michael and Ray were in it together for the long run. That if either of the two of them won, they’d be sharing the prize. That their kingdoms were united.

It wasn't Ryan vs Geoff vs Michael vs Ray any more.

It was Ryan vs Geoff vs Michael _and_ Ray. And no matter who won the crown, even if it was one of the other kings, they'd be claiming their prize with the knowledge that there were two other kingdoms allied already, and that attempting to use their new gift aggressively would be met with the combined force of two other nations. Two other armies.

The two supposedly weakest links had joined forces. It was a plan they'd come up with the second they'd been invited to join in the games.

_Michael's plan_ , Ray thought, and looked over at the other man now with a swelling fondness in his chest.

In the warmth of their rooms, he'd taken off his furs, and Ray couldn't help but smile as he gazed at Michael, who'd closed his eyes. As he took in the curve of his muscles where his strong arms were stretched up over his head, how his curls – longer now, he obviously hadn't cut his hair since Ray saw him last – spilled out across the pillow.

Gods, he loved him.

It was good that Michael had been the one to come up with the plan. If Ray was going to enjoy himself a bit too much, well, who cared, it hadn't been _his_ idea, even if he'd agreed to it maybe a bit too eagerly.

Michael's eyes opened suddenly and he turned to Ray, who quickly flicked his gaze away, embarrassed at being caught staring.

“Your trip here okay?” Michael asked, and Ray nodded, clearing his throat a few times.

“Yeah – yeah,” he said, and forced a smile. “Tiring, but we didn't run into any trouble. I'm glad to be off the road.”

“I hate this place,” Michael grumbled, and Ray shrugged.

“It's not so bad. Reminds me of the desert, sort of. Don't worry, I'll have flowers popping up all over the place in no time,” he added, and Michael huffed out a laugh.

“I'd like to see Ryan's face at that,” he said, and then held up his hand, adjusting the ring again. Ray watched his fingers flex and clench into a fist. The ring suited him, he couldn't help but think. “So how's this work?”

“Well,” Ray said, turning over to face him again. “If one of us wins, no matter who, we both go in to find the crown. Whatever horrible beast Geoff claims is in there is no match for _both_ our armies, right? And you'll wear the crown.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asked.

“I don't want it,” Ray replied. “I trust you. I know you'll use the power for the good of both our kingdoms. I can already control plants,” he added, “I don't need to control mobs as well.”

“Okay then,” Michael said, and smiled before turning away and getting out of the bed. He walked over to the window and looked out; there wasn't much of a view, considering everything in the city was basically just rock and redstone.

Ray took the chance to stare at him again. It might be for convenience's sake, it might be part of a political plan, an alliance for mutual gain-

But they were _engaged_ , he realised suddenly. This plan hadn't just been to shock Ryan and Geoff momentarily. This was part of a long-term strategy. They'd have to visit each other more often now – plan things for their kingdoms collaboratively – he and Michael were going to spend the rest of their lives together. It still hadn't quite sunk in yet.

Michael turned suddenly and Ray couldn't quite adjust his expression quickly enough. He must have been staring at Michael like a lovesick doe, and for a moment he froze, worried. But the other man just laughed.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” he asked.

Ray quickly glanced away. Forced himself to sound joking as he replied, “I can look at my future husband if I want.”

Michael's lips twitched. He came and sat next to Ray on the bed again and when he leaned in close, Ray's breath caught in his throat.

“You know,” Michael said, and his voice was quiet and concerned, “If we go through with this... there's no take backs.”

“I'm aware,” Ray replied. It was an effort to keep his own voice level. “I didn't change my mind on the road.” And then, trying to hide the sudden nervousness that'd fluttered awake in his chest, “Did you?”

“No,” Michael replied immediately. Finally Ray looked up, to find him smiling again. “I trust you. If there's anyone I want to lead my kingdom with, it's my best friend.”

_Best friend_. Since when hadn't that been enough for him?

(Except he _knew_ since when – since two years ago, since Michael had come over to visit after Ray's parents died, since the other man had been the only person he had to rely on when he was suddenly thrown into the deep end and forced to inherit so young-

Since he'd started looking at his best friend with something deeper, since he'd missed Michael so much it hurt after he went back to the alps, since he started spending his days counting down to every letter he'd receive from the other man, since he'd entertained the daydream of them marrying even _before_ Michael came up with this plan-)

He tried to ignore the sudden disappointment that surged up in his gut, and forced himself to smile back.

_Don't fool yourself, Ray. Don't get your stupid hopes up. This is a marriage of convenience for him, that's all – you knew that going into it._

_Don't do this to yourself_. _Don't start thinking that now that you're doing this he might fall for you too._

“Me too,” he replied, and huffed out a laugh. “That's why I agreed to this ridiculous plan.”

“Good,” Michael said. And then, with a snicker, “We're gonna have to kiss at dinner, you know. Make a show of it in front of them.”

“Hey, I'm committed at this point!” Ray replied, and managed to make it sound like he _wasn't_ slowly dying inside. “If we're doing this, we need to do it all the way.”

“Good,” Michael replied, and reached up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just... hope this won't make things strange between us.”

“It won't,” Ray said softly, and looked away, picking at the bedcovers.

_Kiss Michael_. Not like he hadn't been thinking about that for months now. He was getting everything he'd dreamed of, except for Michael it was just part of the political game – right?

Still. He'd take what he could get, even if everything Michael said and did now kept filling him with a treacherous _hope_ that maybe the other man might start to feel the same way – maybe already _did_. He had come up with the plan after all.

And even now, he shifted closer to Ray on the bed and leaned against him, resting his head against his shoulder. Ray's heart pounded as he draped an arm around Michael, trying not to let it show that he was maybe a bit too happy about this.

“I'm glad you're here,” Michael murmured, and Ray's smile widened. “Arriving early was awful. Ryan's such a wanker. He doesn't respect us at all.”

“He will once we win the games,” Ray said confidently, and Michael snorted.

“Yeah, let's hope so. Geoff seems nice though. And he's brought this fool with him.”

“A fool?” Ray asked, and Michael nodded eagerly, twisting to look up at Ray. There was a funny sort of excitement in his eyes.

“Gavin. He's about our age. He's _ridiculous_ ,” he scoffed, and then shook his head almost fondly. “It's amazing. He's really close friends with Geoff, which I thought was strange. But he's great. Should make things more fun.”

“Right,” Ray said flatly, feeling suddenly rather sour. He didn't want to hear Michael gush over other people. “Hey, look at this.”

Michael twisted his head as Ray sat up a little and held his hands out in front of him, cupping them gently. He closed his eyes and called on his gift. Felt his palms warm and then opened his hands to reveal a red rose that had sprouted between them.

It was a simple trick – most flowers were easy to create, and roses were his specialty – but Michael still gave the delighted laugh that he always did when he saw it.

“That's for you,” Ray said, and leaned forward to thread the flower through the ties at the front of Michael's shirt. The other man held still and Ray was too-aware of his own hands, of Michael's chest rising and falling right in front of him as he breathed, of how warm the other man's body was.

“Thanks,” Michael said softly, and when Ray pulled back it was to see Michael grinning at him. It was his usual smile – the smile he'd always given him, since they'd gotten up to mischief as kids, when they were exhausted after running around sparring or exploring each other's kingdoms, when they'd seen each other for the first time today – the smile he gave his close _friends_. Ray couldn't help but wish it was a different sort of smile.

But he'd take what he could get, and he clapped Michael on the shoulder before turning away and muttering about going back to his own chambers to prepare for dinner.

 

* * *

 

Ryan's throne room was at the heart of the fortress; an expansive hall with large windows on every side. From here he could see people moving in the courtyards below, and the open ceiling let him keep an eye on anyone coming and going in each of the corridors in the storeys above. His throne – an ornately carved stone affair – sat atop a raised dais, and to get to most places in the fortress people had to move about the sides of the room and through the king's line of sight.

He sat here now. _Brooding_ was perhaps the best word for what he was doing, although what he was brooding _on_ was less the upcoming competition and more annoyance at the fact that tonight's 'opening of the games' feast had abruptly turned into 'Ray and Michael's _engagement_ feast'.

It was some stunt they'd pulled.

_Clever,_ he had to think, grudgingly. There wasn't much that could blindside him, but a royal proposal the second Ray stepped into his kingdom had certainly been unexpected. _Very clever indeed_.

He'd misjudged the two youngest kings, it seemed. Not much got past him, and he'd known their families were old friends, but he hadn't realised the two of them were so close that they'd tie their kingdoms together forever just to prove a point to him.

The shock of it had him uneasy. He didn't like surprises – especially here and now, when a crown was at stake and he had to be in control more than ever.

A flicker of movement at the side of the hall caught his eye. He sat up a bit, leaning forward to see who it was. A young man that he didn't recognise was talking animatedly to two of his servants who had been carrying candles towards the dining hall in preparation for the feast. He couldn't hear what they were saying from here, but the man was gesticulating wildly and while the servants initially seemed unimpressed, after a moment Ryan saw one of them laugh before shooing the guy off and continuing on their way.

_Must be someone one of the other kings brought with them_ , Ryan thought, watching the man walk over to a large, decorative stone pot on the side of the room and stand on his toes to peer into it. Ryan frowned as the movement brought him into the light of one of the redstone torches on the walls, stiffening as he noticed what the man was wearing.

_Is that...? It can't be_.

“Kerry,” he called out, and his manservant stepped out from behind the throne where he'd been poring over the schedule for tomorrow's games.

“My lord?”

“Whose is that?” Ryan asked, pointing at the man.

Kerry followed his gaze and huffed out something like a laugh.

“King Ramsey's, my lord. He's brought his fool with him. They're very close.”

“Bring him over here to me,” Ryan ordered, and Kerry gave him a quizzical look, but nodded and headed across the room. Ryan watched him go, eyes narrowed.

_Geoff didn't mention a fool_ , he thought darkly. He didn't like being lied to, even by omission.

When Kerry tapped the man on the shoulder, he nearly toppled right into the pot before whirling around. Whatever Kerry said to him made his head snap up, glancing over at Ryan with something like alarm, but he followed the man back over to Ryan, who leaned forward on his throne. The raised dais gave him a height advantage as the fool paused just below the steps and gave the fanciest bow Ryan had ever seen, like he was about to spring into dance any second. He was a scrawny little thing – wild hair, scuffs at the toes of his gold-painted boots, something fluid to his movements, like an acrobat – but Ryan was more interested in the fabric wound around his neck.

“King Haywood,” he said, head still bowed.

“Kerry, leave us,” Ryan ordered, and Kerry bowed and retreated. The man glanced nervously after him, and Ryan snapped his fingers in his face.

“Look at me, fool. What's your name?”

Nervous green eyes glanced up at him.

“Gavin, my lord.”

“Give me your scarf, Gavin,” Ryan ordered, and Gavin froze, hands coming up to clutch at it. Something oddly defensive crossed his face, before he shook his head.

“With all due respect, your majesty, I'd rather not.”

“Excuse me?” Ryan raised an eyebrow and he saw Gavin swallow nervously. “Did you just refuse a command from your king?”

Gavin bit his lip as Ryan stared at him icily. Unimpressed as he was, he also couldn't help but find it a bit novel. It had been a long time since someone spoke back to him like that. The Mad King enjoyed a horrible reputation and most people, if they didn't fear him, at least respected him. Saying 'no' rarely ended well.

He could tell that Gavin was wary of him. But there was something else in it, something defensive and almost primal in how he looked down at his scarf and back up at the king.

“Will you give it back?” he asked. “Because you can't just take people's things.”

For the second time that day, Ryan was almost surprised.

“My gods,” he snapped, “You're a bold one. I see Ramsey's taught you no discipline. Or manners.”

He rose abruptly from his throne and Gavin flinched back for a second, then straightened up, holding his gaze almost defiantly. Ryan stared back at him intently, and for a moment they stood, silent.

Maybe it was a test. He wasn't quite sure himself. Maybe he wanted the fool to look away, to bend to his will – or maybe he was seeing if the man could impress him. Either way, as they held each other's gaze for a long moment, he realised it wasn't disrespect in the young man's eyes. It was something fiercer. _Resolve_.

Ryan could respect resolve.

“You have green eyes,” he observed abruptly, breaking the silence. Gavin blinked, confused, and a wry smile tugged at the corner of Ryan's lips. “Some people say that means cursed.”

“I know,” Gavin replied, careful – like he thought this was some trick - “The children at my orphanage used to call me witchy-boy.”

_An orphan_ , Ryan thought, the pieces falling into place. Something in him softened, though he'd never let it show. He'd seen more than enough children who'd had too many things taken from them, who clung to what little they had left. Mob attacks in his kingdom had claimed huge amounts of victims. His mother had never cared what happened to the people living in the outer villages near the borders, the ones most vulnerable to zombie hordes or a stray creeper. But he wasn't his mother.

He held out a hand again, slowly, and Gavin blinked at him, still clutching his scarf and looking guarded.

“I will give it back,” Ryan said, voice flat but patient. “I just want to see it.”

Gavin bit his lip. He eyed Ryan warily, but when the king just continued to look at him, hand outstretched, he hesitantly unwound the scarf from around his neck and handed it over.

Ryan sat back down, examining the garment. It was more of a shawl than a scarf, and curiosity took over the second it was in his hands. The constant facade, the constant carefulness about what he was doing – what he was showing on his face – who was watching him, what they were seeing, making sure he always appeared in control – the only time he could let go of that was down in his lab with his experiments. But here and now that same scientific eagerness rose up again. The only thing he was paying attention to was the fabric in his hands.

Green and black. There was no mistaking that mottled pattern, not to mention the fact that it didn't feel like anything he'd ever touched before – there was no weave to the fabric, no seams. It was not made of any wool or thread he'd ever seen. It was almost like leather, but softer and thinner.

“Fascinating,” he breathed out – he looked up to find Gavin watching him carefully. “Where did you get this?”

Gavin hesitated again.

“I... I've always had it,” he replied. “I was abandoned as a baby. They found me wrapped in it. It's somehow held up for over twenty years.”

“Do you know what this is?” Ryan asked, and Gavin shook his head – but there was a desperate curiosity in his own eyes now, and he even took a step up the dais, closer to Ryan.

“No,” he replied. “Why? Do you? My lord,” he added, in some belated show of propriety, but Ryan hardly even registered it, running his hands over the fabric again.

“Creeper skin,” he said, and heard Gavin let out a confused little noise.

“ _Creeper_?”

“You know what they are, surely,” Ryan said. He didn't look up, but caught Gavin's nod in his peripheral.

“I've heard of them,” he replied. “But I've never seen one. They never come into the plains. No one there has ever been able to work out what that fabric's made of.”

“It's no wonder,” Ryan replied. He couldn't stop touching it – it was softer than he'd expected. “Creepers self-detonate whenever anyone gets near them. No one's ever seen one up close and lived to tell about it – no one can catch them, or kill them without them exploding. If this _is_ creeper skin, I don't know how the hell someone managed to acquire it.”

“Gods,” was all Gavin said. He'd inched even closer now, watching as Ryan held up the fabric to the light of the redstone torch just above the throne. It was thick enough that the light didn't penetrate it, but shimmered across the pattern prettily. It was a beautiful fabric indeed. Unique – mysterious even if it didn't turn out to be creeper skin – and something tugged at Ryan to see it, to touch it. The pull of discovering something _new_ that always lit up a thrill in him, just like when he made some new finding down in his lab, when the pieces finally fell into place on whatever he was working on.

“You really think that's what it might be?” Gavin asked, jolting him out of his reverie.

“I strongly believe so,” Ryan replied. He lowered the scarf and stroked it again. “It looks exactly like a creeper's pattern.”

“I had no idea. I've never even seen a proper picture of one.”

“It's little wonder,” Ryan said. “There are no mobs outside the Wild except for the ones that wander here into the Stoneworld. They are very dangerous,” he added with a frown. “I spend a lot of time working out new and more efficient ways to repel them.”

“Really?” Gavin asked.

Ryan nodded.

“Draugr, zombies, even Endermen – we've found ways to get rid of them. But creepers are the most dangerous ones of all. The only one I've never been able to catch and study. To finally have something like this, if it is a creeper pelt, is intriguing.”

“You can say that again,” Gavin murmured, and Ryan finally looked up at him.

There was something transfixed in Gavin's eyes, trained on the scarf. He'd gotten very close without Ryan realising it; he was standing right up by the throne, looking over Ryan's shoulder as the king rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Ryan could see that same curious hunger in his face. To go over twenty years with no idea what you were holding onto, knowing only that it was the one thing that your parents had left with you – it was as much a breakthrough for him as it was for Ryan. Perhaps their motives were different, but they both looked at the fabric with the same sort of awe.

“I thought the witches might be able to tell me what it was,” Gavin said, and Ryan scoffed.

“Witches! Bunch of frauds, the lot of them,” he scoffed. “Unpredictable, too. If you don't have the coin to pay them, they're as likely to turn on you as help you.”

“People say they walk through the Wild,” Gavin said. “That they cast spells and curses-”

“People say a lot of things,” Ryan cut in. “Any _magic_ the witches claim to have is nothing more than potions. Chemistry. The only true magic in this world are the crowns and the gifts.”

“You don't believe in curses, then?” Gavin asked, quietly, and Ryan glanced at him again. Met green eyes and shook his head.

“No,” he replied, and Gavin bit his lip.

“Still!” he said. “At least now I know what it is. I don't know how my parents got hold of creeper skin – I guess they must have been either here in the Stoneworld, or in the Wild. Or they bought it from someone else. Either way, it's more of a start than I've ever had before.”

_The Wild_ , Ryan thought. It reminded him, suddenly, exactly who he was talking to. Not just a fool – _Ramsey's_ fool, and he kicked himself for how freely he'd spoken, how he'd let his guard down even a little. He scowled, closing over again – _remember what you're here for. What they're_ all _here for_.

“Any attempt to find your parents through this is a fool's errand,” he scoffed. “It was so long ago, and the Wild is so dangerous, that any clues would have been wiped away. Our past and our parents don't matter. Digging up history is just a waste of time.”

He saw Gavin blink at his sudden coldness, looking confused for a moment, almost _hurt_ , then wary again as he too, it seemed, remembered exactly who he was standing next to.

“May I have it back, your majesty?” he asked, the previous excitement gone from his voice.

Part of Ryan wanted to keep it. If it was creeper skin, it could prove invaluable in his experiments. But he'd given his word, and he balled up the garment and tossed it at Gavin, deliberately throwing it hard enough that he had to step back a little way to catch it, managing to nearly fall down the stone steps of the dais as he did so.

“I will need that later to examine in my lab,” Ryan said, watching Gavin wind the scarf around his neck again.

The fool paused.

“Is that a request or a command?” he asked carefully, and Ryan barked out a harsh laugh.

“Gods but you're strange,” he said. “You're scared of me, yet you show me no respect. You continue to question everything I say. You don't know your place at all. Ramsey must spoil you – or you're just stupid enough not to care.”

Gavin ducked his head, looking chastised enough that Ryan could tell the constant speaking out of turn was impulsive more than deliberate. Still – he narrowed his eyes, cautious now.

His intrigue regarding the scarf had distracted him from other things. The games. What was at stake here. But as he recalled it now, his innate suspicion towards anyone who hadn't earned his trust rose back up.

“Obviously you think me a tyrant,” he said, and saw Gavin's shoulders stiffen.

“My lord, I never said that.”

“I can see it,” Ryan said darkly. He rose from his throne and took a step towards Gavin, who held his ground but kept his head lowered – until Ryan's next words made him glance up, surprised.

“You don't like me much, do you?”

Gavin's eyes widened. Again he hesitated, seeming to think Ryan was trying to get him in some trap where any answer would end in punishment – but Ryan just scoffed out a laugh.

“It's true. You think me cruel. You assumed I was trying to take for myself the only thing your parents left you with. Even now you are wary. It is clear that you do not like me. Of course, that's little surprise coming from Geoff Ramsey's servant. What has he told you about me?”

Gavin looked around, as though hoping that someone would come in and distract Ryan. Maybe Geoff himself, showing up to rescue him. But the throne room was empty and Ryan snapped his fingers in his face again, making him jump.

“That he doesn't trust you,” Gavin admitted.

“And I suppose you believe everything Ramsey says,” Ryan scoffed. “Well, there's no surprise there. He believes I lack honour. That I will steal the crown for myself by some treachery or foul play – isn't that so?”

Gavin glanced away again, and Ryan gave a tight smile.

“Of course. But if he thinks so – then why come here to compete peacefully? Why agree to a competition he doesn't believe I'll fight fairly in? These are the questions that _I_ should be asking. Because I don't doubt that if he doesn't trust me, I shouldn't trust him. Wouldn't you agree?”

Gavin's face gave nothing away, but only because he didn't meet Ryan's eyes – just stared at the throne behind him, hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. Even as he thought about it, Ryan felt himself harden. He stepped closer to Gavin and saw his shoulders stiffen.

“Why would Ramsey bring his court fool here?” he breathed, leaning in close. “We might be here for sport, but certainly not for _fun_. This is no place for a jester. Especially one that he didn't tell me about. So what are you?”

Gavin was the picture of propriety now – standing up straight, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. Ryan reached out and grabbed him by the chin, jerking his head up and forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Geoff's spy?” he hissed. “His _assassin_?”

For a moment they stared at each other. Gavin's eyes were wide, but there was defiance burning over the fear in them.

“His _friend_ ,” he replied fiercely, and Ryan laughed as he let him go, jerking his hand back roughly enough that Gavin stumbled.

“Friend,” he scoffed. “Kings don't have friends.”

Gavin rubbed his jaw. He glanced at Ryan sidelong and although it was clear that he didn't _believe_ Ryan, there was something worse in it. _Pity_. It made Ryan's skin crawl, made his fists clench at his sides. Made him want to _hurt_ something, just to alleviate the shame that burnt in his chest.

“Stupid boy,” he snapped, needing to lash out, if only verbally. “We're all pieces in this game. And if you're not in control, you're the one being controlled.”

“He isn't like that,” Gavin said quietly.

“So loyal,” Ryan replied, shaking his head. “But pawns usually are.”

“You don't know anything about Geoff,” Gavin said, close to anger, and Ryan laughed at him again.

“I don't know Geoff, but I know kings,” he replied, moving back up by his own throne, running a hand down the cold stone arm. “Why do you think Michael proposed to Ray back there? Do you think they're in love? That's not how things work here. They'll marry each other just to stay in power. All they want is _control_.”

Gavin bit his lip, and Ryan jabbed a finger at him. The words spilled out angrily, and if he'd paused to think he might not have been sure if he was schooling Gavin or himself.

“Don't underestimate what people will do for a crown. What they'll do to those who stand in their way. People you think are your friends – your _family_ – people you _love_ – everyone has an agenda. Your beloved leaders may not be so beloved when you find out that the most important thing about you is how much you're worth to them. How _useful_ you can be.”

Gavin's jaw clenched. He looked away and Ryan stepped towards him again, sneering.

“What? You want to say something? Go ahead. I won't punish you. I've said more than enough already.”

Gavin hesitated, then met Ryan's eyes.

“I see exactly why Geoff doesn't like you,” he said.

Ryan stared at him, then couldn't help but _laugh_.

“Quite,” he replied, shaking his head as he moved to sit down again. He gave Gavin his best pitying look as he flapped a hand at him.

“Run along then, witchy-boy,” he said. “And tell Geoff to keep his things to himself. If I see you anywhere you shouldn't be, I will not be so merciful as I was this time.”

Gavin seemed surprised to be let go so easily. But he quickly bowed and then scrambled away, practically running out of the throne room, leaving Ryan sitting in the empty and silent hall. The minute Gavin was out of his sight the smug smile slipped from his face and he fell to brooding again, drumming his fingers against his chin morosely.

He did not like the way this was going, and the games hadn't even started yet.

He'd had to think for a long time before deciding to hold these competitions. And while the others might claim he had the advantage of being on his home territory, he'd still had to take a number of precautions inviting the other kings and their companies into the heart of his own kingdom. They may seem honourable, but you never knew people until you saw them.

And so far, what he'd seen had not been what he'd expected.

Geoff Ramsey had been far too nervous about the games. He'd tried to hide it, but the stress he was under was obvious. He'd brought too many soldiers and the rumours of political strife in his kingdom were troubling. Desperate men were the most dangerous sort.

Then there were the two youngest kings – Ray had only been in his kingdom a matter of minutes before they'd proven they were more than just naïve youngsters. They'd come here having obviously, cunningly planned that engagement. And it had _worked_ – it had made them a force to be reckoned with no matter who won the crown. Not to mention – who knew what _else_ they'd plotted together before coming here?

And now – _now_ there was the sudden appearance of a jester boy wearing a scarf made from the skin of the most dangerous monster in the land. Creepers had been the bane of Ryan's kingdom for centuries and no one had ever managed to get _near_ one, let alone collect its pelt. Oh, he might _claim_ just to be a fool, but he'd come quite literally wrapped in a mystery.

It all meant one thing: Ryan was headed into the unknown here. And that was the feeling he hated the most.

_Stay in control_ , he thought darkly, and sat up straight as the dinner gong rang out, its low toll echoing through the stone castle. Immediately the graveyard stillness of the hall around him broke into bustling noise as people emerged from the doors on either side of the room, from the chambers on the floors above that the ceiling was open to, all heading for the dining hall - the fortress springing to life around Ryan's throne. He straightened the crown on his head and rose himself. _That's what matters most. Control._

 

* * *

 

“Jack,” Geoff whispered, clutching at his arm. “I really do think he's poisoned us.”

“For the last time, Geoff, he has _not_ poisoned us,” Jack hissed back, fighting not to roll his eyes. “We were all served from the same pot! He ate the _same thing_! Besides, poisoning us all at the dinner table before the games even start? It's too blatant for Ryan.”

“But I feel real fucking strange, Jack,” Geoff insisted, pressing a hand to his stomach. “I'm uneasy within!”

“It's all in your head,” Jack replied sternly, and Geoff just gave a very miserable sort of groan.

They were in the expansive parlour room just off the dining hall. The meal had finished half an hour ago and the nobles had retired to this room for drinks and polite conversation. Honestly, after how far they had all journeyed, everyone really just wanted to sleep – but all the kingdoms save for Michael's had brought members of their court along to serve as umpires for the games, to make sure that the decisions and scoring went fairly, and this was the best time for them all to introduce themselves before the games began tomorrow.

Soon they'd be expected to mingle again. But for now, Geoff had retreated off to one corner, pulling Jack aside with him, and the nook they were in between two bookshelves was a welcome reprieve from the music, the chatter, the glow of redstone lights in the rest of the parlour.

“Literally every dish was just a variation on mushrooms,” Geoff continued then. “That was strange, don't you think?”

“It's the only thing that grows in the Stoneworld,” Jack replied calmly. “It's a staple of their diet, Geoff. I promise, we haven't been poisoned. If you feel sick, you're probably just nervous about tomorrow.”

“I am not _nervous_ ,” Geoff said indignantly, but Jack had known him long enough to tell it was a lie.

“It's okay if you are,” he assured him. “An unclaimed crown is a big deal. Just remember, you've _prepared_ for this. You've been a king longer than anyone else here. If anyone knows what they're doing, it's you.”

“Ryan seems to know pretty fucking well what he's doing,” Geoff muttered, and Jack could see how his shoulders had hunched up, the worried creases around his eyes and mouth. “And it seems like Michael and Ray have more up their sleeves than we thought.”

“Still,” Jack said, and reached out, squeezing his shoulder. “You're a good swordsman. All three of the games are things you're capable in. Don't overthink this.”

Geoff just sighed, looking away, and Jack ached to look at him. He knew exactly how anxious the other man had been over the last few weeks.

Things had been going wrong even before the Wild king died. The plains were a huge kingdom and some of the barons of the more remote cities had, at some point, gotten it into their heads that it was time for there to be a new ruler. Though Geoff had tried to keep an eye on them with the Sight, it had him exhausted and spread thin, and his control was slipping. Enough to be worrying. Enough that they needed something, a symbol of his power – and another crown would be perfect.

Not to mention that any of the _other_ kings gaining the crown would be worrying. No Wild king thus far had ever used their power to create a mob army, but if Geoff didn't win this, it was either going to be Ryan who won the gift – or one of two very young kings who had a lot to prove to their people.

It was not a fun situation to be in.

And it was definitely getting to Geoff – Jack had been growing increasingly more concerned about him over the last few weeks. The pressure was building up, he knew – and Geoff could handle it, but there was only so much any one man could take.

“Hey,” he said gently, and squeezed Geoff's shoulder again. “It'll be _fine_.”

Geoff just sighed tiredly. After a moment he leaned forward and dropped his head down against Jack's shoulder. Jack reached up, wrapping his arms around him automatically, hugging him tightly for a moment before running a hand down his back soothingly.

“You should get to bed early,” he murmured, but Geoff shook his head, pulling back to look up at Jack.

“I can't be the first one to leave.”

“Idiot,” Jack said, fondly. “No one would care. You need to be well rested to fight tomorrow.”

“When the others start leaving I'll go. I _could_ do with a drink, though,” he added hopefully, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“You had enough at dinner. The last thing you need is a hangover.”

“Either you get me one and water it down, or I get one and drink it straight,” Geoff informed him, and Jack rolled his eyes again, thumping him on the shoulder as he pulled back.

“I suppose you'll just continue to hide here behind the book shelves,” he replied, and Geoff nodded smugly, reaching out and starting to pull books out and inspect them before putting back, a show of busyness that would probably put anyone else off from talking to him. Jack could only shake his head, unable to stop his small smile before he turned and headed off towards the drinks table.

The second he emerged from the shelves he froze. Ryan was standing on the other side of the room with his eyes fixed directly on them. Jack wasn't sure how much he'd seen through the gaps between the books, but his eyes were narrowed and he looked very ominous, standing there leaning against the wall with a goblet of wine delicately raised in one hand. When their eyes met he raised an eyebrow, which Jack had no idea what to make of.

He shook himself, turning away and hurrying on to the drinks – but couldn't shake the unsettling feeling of Ryan's eyes on his back. He looked over to the other side of the room, hoping to distract himself.

Gavin was performing for an audience of courtiers. Jack hadn't seen him much at dinner; he'd been sitting with the guests of much lower rank. But since they'd gone into the parlour, Gavin had seemed oddly distracted. He'd kept catching Jack's eye and trying to pull him and Geoff aside, but initially they'd been so flooded with other people trying to speak to them that Gavin couldn't get to them without interrupting. By the time they'd managed to escape, he'd already started his act.

Whatever he wanted to talk to them about, it seemed that it could wait, because he looked quite alright now – smiling away as he juggled for the approving audience.

An audience which included Michael and Ray, sitting on one of the low couches right in front of Gavin.

Ah, the happy couple.

Ryan had toasted to their engagement at dinner, but Jack knew that he wasn't pleased about this turn of events. Geoff wasn't exactly ecstatic either.

They'd all underestimated Michael.

It had been easy to see him as thickheaded. As the brute force bear-man from the mountains, so new to the crown that he had no strategy except bashing his way to victory.

But he'd obviously planned this in advance with Ray, and it made Jack wary of him now. Their kiss at dinner had been confident, almost _smug._ They knew exactly what they were doing and it was obvious they were both _relishing_ how easily they'd gotten the jump on the older kings.

Obviously the two of them were very close, and even if Jack didn't know the particulars of their relationship, they were clearly loyal to each other. And he could admire that – but it also meant that if the plains kingdom accidentally crossed one of them, they crossed _both_ of them.

Loyalty was dangerous if it wasn't to you, after all.

The two of them sat now practically curled up together, Michael's arm draped across Ray's shoulders, Ray's body tucked up against his as they watched Gavin. Or at least, Michael watched Gavin – Ray was staring at Michael with a funny little smile. The picture of the joyous newlyweds.

“They're good, aren't they?”

The low voice by his shoulder made Jack jump. He'd been pouring a goblet of wine for Geoff and his shock made him jerk and spill it across the white cloth of the drinks table.

“I'm sorry,” he said automatically, snatching up a napkin and starting to dab up the mess. A hand touched his wrist briefly, making him freeze.

“Don't worry about that,” Ryan said, and he was so close by Jack's side that he couldn't help but stiffen. “The servants will clean it up.”

Jack slowly turned to look at him. Ryan was staring at him intently. Somehow Jack hadn't expected him to have such blue eyes.

Then again, he'd never met him before. Geoff's previous visits to his kingdom had always been unaccompanied.

He was a handsome man, Jack couldn't help but think, despite himself. Striking. He radiated power in a way that Geoff didn't – the plains king was always remarkably laid back with his subjects. Warm with them in a way that made anyone who met him in person inclined to trust him.

But Ryan was so intense that it was intimidating, and it had Jack shivering on edge with – _something_ , he wasn't sure what. Not quite nerves, just something that made him very aware of Ryan's presence and the gaze that was still fixed on him.

“Your majesty,” he managed, and bowed.

“You are Ramsey's advisor,” Ryan observed. “Jack?”

“Yes, my lord,” Jack replied. “Thank you for welcoming us into the Stoneworld. Your hospitality has been very appreciated so far.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Ryan's mouth.

“It's nice to see that one of Ramsey's party has manners,” he replied drily, and Jack stiffened when the king's gaze drifted across the room to Gavin next.

_Shit_ , he thought. _What trouble have you been getting yourself into now, Gav?_

“I apologise if the fool spoke out of turn to you,” he said quickly. “He wasn't raised in court. I can speak to him later if he displeased you.”

Ryan just tilted his head, still watching Gavin with something scrutinising enough that it made Jack uneasy.

“He's a curious little creature,” he murmured, and Jack bit his lip, a nervous protectiveness rising up in his chest.

“I'll keep him out of your way,” he persisted, and Ryan's eyes turned back to him.

“You're concerned for him,” he said, and gave another wry smile. “How... touching. But also very strange. What use might a king have to be so close to someone like _that_?”

It was bad enough that Ryan had somehow already worked out that Gavin was more than just a servant to Geoff. The absolute last thing Jack wanted was him ending up even more on Ryan's radar.

“No use,” he replied firmly. “He is a friend to Geoff, and entertaining, but nothing more than that. If you think he is somehow a danger to you, or a secret weapon, you're mistaken – unless you believe he can somehow juggle you to death. Geoff brought him along for entertainment. Even a king needs pretty amusements.”

A flash of understanding crossed Ryan's face at this last statement.

“Ah,” he said. “Ramsey's bedfellow then.”

“ _What_?”

“No?” Ryan asked, and pressed his lips together. “Then still strange...”

Jack could only stare at him. Part of him wished he hadn't reacted with such shock. It might've been safer to let Ryan assume that Gavin and Geoff were just sleeping together. Still – it had been such a surprise to hear Ryan say it that he hadn't been able to help himself.

The court wasn't blind. People knew that Jack and Geoff were closer than an advisor and a king should be, and they found it even stranger that one of the king's closest was his _fool_. But they assumed the king just kept a very odd selection of friends. Never anything more.

Not that there _was_ anything more. Not yet, anyway. Jack didn't like to think about it; things tended to get too complicated where royalty was involved. He and Geoff had known each other for so long that it came easily to admit that he loved him, that he knew Geoff loved him. In what _way_ they loved each other was another story, a tangled story that they were letting work out on its own.

Gavin was different. He'd come in later and if anything his arrival had shaken things up. It was hard not to be attracted to Gavin, but Geoff interacted with him with such affection that it always made Jack do a double take – and then wonder if that was how _his_ relationship with the king looked to outsiders.

But no one had ever commented so directly on it before, and all he could do was sort of stand there gaping at Ryan until the other man laughed, seeming genuinely amused by his floundering.

“I saw _you_ and Geoff over there,” he said pointedly, nodding at the bookshelves. Jack felt his cheeks heat and tried to push his embarrassment away. “You are also very close to him.”

_Is he fishing for information here?_ Jack couldn't help but wonder. There had to be some reason for the questioning – and he wouldn't put it past everyone here to be pressing for the other kings' weak spots.

“We grew up together,” he replied, recovering himself. “My father was a duke and a very close friend of the previous king. They'd trained together as squires. We've known each other since we were boys – we took our education together.”

“And you advise him,” Ryan said, and Jack nodded.

“I am well schooled in politics and I always had more of a mind for economics than Geoff did. Two heads are better than one, as they say.”

“Mm. Depends on the heads,” Ryan replied thoughtfully. “So you two are _very_ close then.”

“My lord, I'm not sure I know what you are trying to imply,” Jack said, carefully, and Ryan actually paused and shook himself, like he almost hadn't _meant_ to pry so deeply. It was all very puzzling.

“You are... friends,” he said, slowly.

“...yes?” Jack replied, growing more confused by the minute. Ryan said the word like he'd say _aliens_ or _dragons_. Something utterly unbelievable.

There was a moment of very awkward silence in which Ryan continued to stare at the bookshelves where Geoff was lurking, and Jack had no idea if the conversation was over or not.

“And yourself?” he asked finally, and Ryan's gaze snapped back over to him. “No royal advisor?”

“I trust no one's judgment here but my own,” Ryan replied immediately, and Jack nodded.

“I see.”

It came out flat, almost disapproving. He couldn't help it. One of the things he'd disliked about Ryan's mother was her dictatorial leadership; her belief that her own way was the only way. Geoff hadn't fallen into that trap; he deferred to the court on matters that he knew little of, and was always willing for Jack to criticise his ideas.

Ryan stared at him, seeming to sense his displeasure.

“It's not necessarily just about judgment,” Jack couldn't help explaining. “I'm there to support Geoff. To check the decisions he makes, give him a second opinion. I'm someone he can trust completely if he ever needs to leave the kingdom for a visit, or needs to send someone out to a meeting. Someone he can tell his ideas to – it can help, saying them out loud – rant to, run his plans by. As king, the ultimate decisions are always his. But there is no harm in running them past someone else first. The plains are a big kingdom. It is a lot for one man to handle.”

“I see,” Ryan said. His voice was flat and Jack wondered if he'd offended him – but there was no anger in the king's eyes. Just a mild sort of curiosity.

“I do admire that you have run this whole kingdom so well on your own,” Jack added. “It seems that things have prospered since you inherited.”

“You think so?” Ryan asked. It came out controlled but Jack had seen his eyes widen a little, almost surprised.

“Yes,” he replied, honestly. “Since you took over, the damage caused by mob attacks has fallen tremendously. Your trade with other kingdoms in minerals and ore has increased significantly, infrastructure has been built up – roads, bridges, mines – and the smaller villages throughout the Stoneworld have grown. Economically speaking, you've brought the people into a significant upturn.”

“Hmm,” was all Ryan replied, but something had relaxed about his face, and Jack thought he seemed pleased. Everything he'd said was true. They might not _trust_ Ryan, but regardless of how he might treat the other kingdoms, he seemed to be doing alright by his own people.

After a moment Ryan turned back towards Michael and Ray.

“They need advisors,” he said, a little disdainfully. “The alps are a military kingdom. Michael knows his warriors very well, but little else. I have no idea who is running his court while he's here.”

“I'm sure he's arranged it all.”

“His father was a brutish man. Cared little about anything beyond throwing his weight around – thankfully just within his own borders. As for Ray – I know _he_ has advisors. Friends of his family. I wonder if they approved of this marriage business.”

“It was a clever strategy,” Jack said quietly. “New kings need allies.”

“Probably,” Ryan agreed, though Jack couldn’t help but remember that he'd never bothered to reach out after his own inheritance.

There was another pause – less awkward, this time – before Jack picked up the wine and gestured towards Geoff.

“I should return,” he said, and Ryan nodded. He looked at the wine and his eyes crinkled, nearly amused.

“Of course. We can't deprive Geoff of his drinks. If you need anything don't hesitate to let the servants know.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. And then, as Ryan turned away, “Good luck in the games tomorrow.”

Ryan froze. When he turned to Jack, he looked surprised – and cautious.

“Why should you wish _me_ luck?” he demanded, and Jack was a little taken aback by the sheer suspicion in his tone.

“It's only polite,” was all he replied, and Ryan's frown turned softer, more confused, before he turned away and headed back off towards his own courtiers. Jack stared after him, bemused, before returning to Geoff.

“What was he talking to you about?” the other man hissed, as soon as he returned.

“Nothing much.”

“ _Nothing much_!” Geoff cried incredulously. He snatched the wine and took a big gulp. “He didn't make any puns about the food, did he? Because I'm telling you, he's the sort that'd poison us and then joke about it.”

“I need to keep an eye on Gavin,” was all Jack replied, distractedly – he peered through the books to make sure Ryan wasn't going anywhere near him, but he was on the other side of the room. Satisfied, he turned back to Geoff, who was frowning too now.

“Why? Ryan say something?”

“I'm not sure,” Jack replied. “He seemed suspicious of why we're so close to him. And each other.”

“None of his damn business,” was Geoff's incredibly mature answer, and Jack shook himself. He forced a smile as he turned back to Geoff and clapped him on the arm.

“Hurry up and drink that and then go and mingle. The sooner we talk to enough people, the sooner we can get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Ray sat, gazing at Michael, the other man warm against his side and his arm comfortably tucked around Ray's shoulders. He didn't notice Ray's staring – was too busy watching Gavin, before finally breaking into applause as the act finished and people started to drift away as the hour grew late and others around the room began to head off to bed.

“Isn't he great?” he asked, finally turning to Ray. Despite how tired he must be, his eyes were shining and there was a delighted grin on his face.

Ray couldn't help feeling a little put out.

“I've seen my own jesters do basically the same thing,” he replied, shrugging.

It wasn't even a lie. Gavin had obviously been too tired to do much very spectacular beyond a few juggling tricks, so it was annoying Ray that Michael was acting like it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Honestly, the highlight of the whole show was when Gavin stopped in the middle and got into an argument with some visiting philosopher about what would happen if someone shoved their head up their own arse (supposedly it would come out their mouth? Or so he claimed). Even Ray had to admit that _that_ had been funny, because watching a complete idiot argue with some old guy who thought himself very clever but had no actual grasp of _science_ was hysterical.

But apart from that? Nothing special about the fool. Certainly not enough for Michael to be gushing over.

As it was, he just shrugged, unfazed by Ray's lack of enthusiasm. Ray sighed and poked at his arm.

“Anyway – want to get out of here? Geoff already left.”

“Not yet,” Michael replied, and Ray frowned. Most people were drifting out of the room by now, but Michael sat up – forcing Ray to shift over on the couch and stop leaning on him – and turned to look at Gavin, who had gone over to the drinks table, poured himself one, and then inexplicably sat down on the floor instead of a chair.

“Gavin!” Michael called, and beckoned when he looked up. “Come over here!”

“What?” Ray hissed, grabbing at Michael's sleeve. “Why?”

“Come meet him!” Michael turned to him, beaming, and Ray hesitated.

“He's just a fool,” he began, but Michael wasn't listening, and it was too late. Gavin was already clambering to his feet and coming over to them. He brought his cup with him and was still drinking by the time he approached, which Ray thought rather improper.

“Sorry, I'm really dehydrated,” was the first thing he said, instead of, you know. _Hello your majesty_.

Michael did not appear to care at all.

“It's fine. You must be tired after travelling all day.”

Gavin just shrugged.

“Did you enjoy the performance? It wasn't my best. It's always harder when we travel.”

“Yes,” Michael informed him, and grinned, reaching out and bumping him on the shoulder with his fist. Ray could only stare. What did that mean. What was the purpose of this shoulder bump.

He must've been pulling some sort of face, because Gavin looked over at him at last, and then glanced between the two of them and smiled.

“Congratulations on your engagement!” he said, and gave a delighted laugh. “It was _incredible_. The looks on everyone's faces! You really blindsided me with that one. I loved it.”

Michael seemed very pleased that he was so amused. He beamed, and Ray couldn't help but let out a scoff. Gavin turned to him and finally seemed to remember his place.

“Your majesty,” he said, and bowed. It was a player's bow, low and luxurious. Ray hated it.

“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. And then, for the sake of conversation, “So, you're here with Geoff, then?”

Gavin nodded.

“Yes! Where is he, by the way?” He craned his neck to peer around the room. “Oh, he must've gone. Oh well. I'll meet up with him later.”

“Meet up with him?” Ray raised an eyebrow. “At this time of night? What do you have to do with him so late?”

Michael exchanged a glance with him, his own eyebrows rising, and Ray shot a look back at him. Gavin was unfazed, continuing to grin away as he shrugged. There was a funny, fizzing eagerness to the man. He seemed almost drunk, except he hadn't had time to drink while performing. It made him seem absent-minded – almost dimwitted, in Ray's opinion.

“I have some things to tell him,” he said. “Oh! Michael! I have good news.”

“ _Michael?_ ” Ray asked sharply.

“It's fine, I said he could call me by name,” Michael replied, and Ray pressed his lips together.

It wasn't that he was being petty, that he _wanted_ to put Gavin in his place – Michael was just so new to being king that Ray worried about him. And hell, he got it – it was a hard transition going from being friends with people to quite literally lording it over them. At first he'd wanted to stay informal with everyone as well.

But both of them were so young that it was more important than ever for them to command respect. For them to _demand_ respect if they needed to, because otherwise people would start getting ideas. It was one thing to be underestimated, but quite another for people to genuinely think you weak. And it might seem minor, letting people get away with addressing you too casually, but things like that built up.

Michael didn't notice his frown. He was still staring eagerly at Gavin, who'd started bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I have a lead on finding out about my parents,” he said – Ray was confused a second, then quickly realised this must be a continuation of some conversation they'd had earlier - “Have you ever seen a creeper?”

“No,” Michael replied. “I've only ever heard of them.”

He glanced at Ray, who shook his head as well.

“I've only seen pictures, and even those were not very realistic,” he said. “Why?”

“I've never seen one either,” Gavin replied. “But my parents had something to do with them.”

“How the fuck did you find that out between arriving here and right now?” Michael asked incredulously.

Gavin just gave a shrug and a funny little smile.

“It seems fate is on my side,” he replied, and Ray snorted.

“Fate,” he scoffed, and Gavin glanced up at him.

“You don't believe in it?”

“No,” Ray replied. “It's foolish.”

“See, I used not to as well,” Gavin said. “But now I'm thinking, I didn't want to accompany Geoff here, but if I hadn't, I would never have found this lead.”

“I agree with him, Ray,” Michael said, to Ray's great displeasure. “There's some providence in the works of nature. The way the snow falls. When a storm hits, or a landslide. Most people in my kingdom believe in some sort of shaping hand, even if it means that as humans all we can do is work to make ourselves strong and weather whatever comes. Fortune can play a big part in survival.”

“So whoever wins this crown will win by fate rather than skill?” Ray asked – directing it at Gavin, who shrugged.

“Skill helps determine fate,” he said, and Ray snorted again, a little annoyed by how quickly he'd answered.

“You are a fool, not a philosopher,” he said, perhaps a bit too sharply, because Michael looked over at him in surprise.

“Ray,” he said quietly – something almost disappointed in it. It sent a stab through Ray's chest, but Gavin was already nodding.

“King Ray is right,” he said, and shrugged, one side of his mouth pulling up into a crooked grin. “I'm just talking out my arse. And whoever gets this crown will well deserve it after winning all those games. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am,” Michael said confidently. “Sword fighting is where I have the biggest advantage.”

“I've been practicing,” Ray added, but Gavin glanced over at him then.

“Michael told me this challenge is the one you'd have a disadvantage in,” he said, seemingly without thinking about it.

Ray clenched his jaw, swallowing the hot rise of anger and hurt in his chest.

_Stop being stupid_ , he told himself. Since dinner he'd felt put off by Gavin purely because he was holding all Michael's attention. It was silly and petty, but he couldn't help it. Michael had known Gavin less than a day and he was already smiling at him like he was the funniest thing in the world.

And now, to hear that Michael had been talking to Gavin about him, and talking about his _weaknesses_ no less – that cut deep.

But he'd never let it show.

“Sure,” he said, and scoffed out a laugh. “But I'll kill it in archery. You'll see. Been practicing my chess too.”

Gavin's eyes fixed on him. There was something disconcertingly intense about his stare, and Ray felt scrutinised in a way he really didn't like. He'd had more than enough eyes on him, judging him, since he inherited the throne. And some common fool was the last person he wanted trying to puzzle out what he was thinking.

He got up off the couch and Michael glanced at him in surprise.

“I'm going to bed,” Ray said – he expected Michael to say goodnight to Gavin and come with him, but he just nodded.

“Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

He leaned in and took Ray by the arm, tugging him close to kiss him on the cheek. Despite his annoyance, Ray still couldn't help the way his heart fluttered at that, and he forced a smile before squeezing Michael's shoulder and slipping out of the room. He didn't look back – didn't want to see the two of them continuing to laugh with each other. Didn't want to see Michael probably pull Gavin to sit on the couch where Ray had been just moments before.

The second he got out of the room and into the empty corridor, he paused, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

_Don't get upset, you idiot_.

Right now they needed to focus on winning the games. Not on his _stupid_ feelings for Michael. Not on being jealous over some idiot who was going to return to Ramsey's kingdom after all this anyway. After these few days, Michael would probably never see Gavin again.

“King Ray.”

The sudden voice made him jump – he'd thought himself alone, and whirled around in surprise.

Ryan was leaning against the wall nearby, nearly hidden in the shadows. A shiver crawled down Ray's spine because _gods above, does he make a fucking_ habit _of lurking in dark corners waiting to surprise people?_

He hadn't spoken to Ryan at dinner, or alone at all since he arrived. In fact, he knew very little about the Mad King except for his reputation.

“Off to bed?” Ryan continued, pushing off the wall and stalking towards him. His hand trailed along the stone wall as he passed it and Ray couldn't help but stare, curious despite himself. Their gifts were the most similar; he created life where he walked – plants, flowers, fertile ground – and Ryan's touch could transform stone into redstone, the most powerful source of energy in the five lands. Both of their kingdoms' survival hinged on them. It was an enormous pressure and one of the first things he'd struggled with after inheriting.

“That's the idea,” he replied calmly.

Ryan paused just in front of him, a bit too close so that Ray had to tilt his head back to look up at him.

“Where's your fiancé, then? I can have your things brought to his room, if you want.”

“We will sleep separately for now,” Ray said, and Ryan tilted his head.

“Trouble in paradise already?” There was a mocking note in his tone and his smile was tight. He obviously wasn't happy with them. Maybe Ray should have been worried about pissing off the Mad King so soon. He didn't care. He wasn't here to make _friends_.

Still – he wasn't stupid enough to not at least be wary, and he held Ryan's gaze carefully.

“No. Just want to be well rested for tomorrow.”

“Quite,” Ryan said, and then sort of stood there looking at him.

“I'm sure most presume I will place fourth, anyhow,” Ray couldn't help but add, still rather bitter about Michael going off and telling Gavin that he wasn't good at sword fighting. It came out a bit childishly, but Ryan just shook his head slowly.

“I would not underestimate you,” he said, and his smile, while not quite sincere, turned a bit more thoughtful. “Even roses have thorns.”

For a moment Ray thought he was being mocked. But Ryan appeared quite serious, and after a moment he gave an awkward nod. He couldn't help but feel, oddly, a little pleased inside. There were few who could impress the Mad King and he'd been expecting the other man to try and put him down, get into his head before the match.

“...right,” was all he could think to say. “Goodnight then.”

Ryan bowed his head and vanished back away down the hall, leaving Ray staring at him.

Michael had said that Ryan didn't respect them, but that certainly hadn't felt like the case just then. Either their plan had worked so well that Ryan now saw them as a threat, or Ryan already viewed _him_ differently to Michael. It was possible, he supposed. Michael was very new, but Ray had two years as king under his belt.

But there was no point dwelling on it now. Shaking himself, he headed quickly off to his own chambers. It had been a long day already and he was too tired to think straight.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here with me,” Geoff said.

Jack looked up from where he was sitting by the side of the room. He'd thought Geoff was asleep – the other man had already gotten into the enormous bed in the middle of his chambers – and Jack had been looking over what few maps of the Wild there were, trying to work out the best route to where the crown was.

Geoff was sitting up now, watching him.

“Why?” Jack asked.

“Because I have no idea what's going on back in the plains,” Geoff pointed out.

“You left the kingdom in good hands. Lindsay knows what she's doing.”

“She doesn't have the Sight, Jack. She can't keep an eye on the outer cities. Gods know what the barons are planning – with me gone, if they wanted to make a move now would be the time to do it.” Geoff bit his lip, looking away. “I should check on them.”

“What?” Jack rose and came over to the bed, sitting down next to him. “With the Sight?”

Geoff nodded decisively. “I need to make sure everything's okay over there – what if we return to find there's been an uprising?”

He clenched his fists and his eyes began to glow white – it never failed to make Jack uneasy when he saw the other man using his gift. But he reached out now and shook Geoff's shoulder roughly, making him snap out of it, his eyes turning back to their usual pale blue.

“Don't be stupid,” Jack snapped. “You can't use the Sight, not now, not that far – you'll exhaust yourself before tomorrow! Focus on winning the games.”

Geoff's jaw clenched, but Jack continued to stare at him intently.

“We're already here,” he pointed out. “It'll take us two weeks to get back, no matter how urgent things are. There's no sense in jeopardising your chances of winning just to worry yourself over what's happening back home when there's nothing we can do about it anyway.”

Geoff still looked annoyed, but after a moment he sighed and nodded. Jack reached out, squeezing his shoulder, hating how tense the other man still was.

The bedroom door opened so abruptly that both of them jumped, whipping around. It was Gavin who entered, practically bouncing.

“I know you grew up in circus tents but I'm certain we taught you how to knock,” Geoff snapped.

Gavin toed his boots off and leapt onto the bed, unfazed.

“I have grand news,” he cried, unwinding the scarf from his neck and throwing it down into the centre of the bed. “I found out what it's made of! That's what I was going to ask the witches anyway! You were right, Geoff, it was a good idea to come here.”

He was practically buzzing with excitement and Jack couldn't help but smile. Geoff didn't look riveted, but this was a mystery all three of them had been trying to solve since they'd met Gavin, and even he was reluctantly curious.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“King Ryan thinks it's creeper skin,” Gavin said. “Which is well strange because no one has ever been able to catch one without it blowing up-”

“ _Ryan_ told you what it is?” Geoff demanded. “Gods above, Gav, why the fuck were you talking to _him_ about it?”

“He noticed me wearing it and wanted to look,” Gavin said. “He was very interested.”

“I told you to be careful about what you do here!” Geoff's tone was harsh and Jack shot him a careful glance – he'd already been stressed from earlier and this wasn't helping. “What the fuck else did you tell him?”

“Where I got it,” Gavin replied, still sounding more excited than anything. “And how I don't know my parents.”

“He's not your friend, Gavin,” Geoff chided.

“I _know_ ,” Gavin said, “He wasn't friendly at all. But he's given me my first solid lead-”

“You should know better than to get yourself noticed by him.”

“Be careful, Gav,” Jack added, more gently. “He's already suspicious of how close we all are. Anything he sees as a weakness, he might use against us.”

“He kept going on about how I shouldn't trust you,” Gavin said dismissively. “Like I said, he's an asshole. Fellow has issues, though. You know what I reckon? _He_ doesn't trust anyone, that's why he's so cold. I don't know. Either way, he helped me, even if it was just out of his own curiosity.”

“I know this is important to you.” Geoff's tone was tight rather than scolding, but there was no missing that he was serious. “But do not go putting yourself in danger just to get more information about your parents-”

“He might be able to tell me more-”

“Do not _fucking_ go near him,” Geoff snapped, loudly enough that Gavin shut up immediately. “That's an order.”

Gavin stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed. Jack glanced between the two of them in concern – but whatever Gavin saw in Geoff's face, after a moment he just shrugged, picking at the fabric of the scarf where it lay on the bed.

“Anyway,” he said, “It's more incentive for you to win, Geoffrey! The next step in my investigation is the Wild – I need to find out more about these creepers!”

“Yeah, okay, but for now you need to focus on what's going on here,” Geoff said sternly. “If you want us to win, don't be wasting time poking into your mystery. No distractions – talk to the servants, talk to Ryan's people, find out more about him through the others. But stay away from _him_.”

“Yes, yes,” Gavin said impatiently. “But Geoff, I'm right where I need to be! While we're here, this is my chance to find out-”

“We need to fucking _focus_ here, Gavin,” Geoff cut in. “Do what I brought you here for. And like I said, once this is all over, we'll find your parents together. Okay?”

“Okay,” Gavin sighed, and they all fell silent. He was still distracted though, fidgeting with the scarf and shifting where he sat, and Jack reached out and put a hand on his, trying to calm him down.

“I saw you talking to Michael before,” he said to Gavin after a moment, and the other man nodded furiously.

“Yes! Michael is top. He was really nice to me.”

“Be careful with him,” Jack couldn't help warning. “I know people might seem nice, but you never know. They might just be trying to lead you in, trap you by making you think they like you-”

“I'm not stupid, Jack,” Gavin said, sounding a little put out, but Jack just shook his head.

“I know with Geoff and I it's different,” he said. “You can speak freely with us. But you have to remember that you're actually ranked a lot lower than everyone else here, and many of these other kings care about that a lot more than we do. And they won't touch you-”

“Because I belong to Geoff,” Gavin cut in, wearily. “And you don't touch other kings' _things_.”

“Because you're under his protection,” Jack corrected. He wasn't trying to put Gavin down here, but he needed to _understand_ \- “But it's still a risk we don't want to take. Be careful around all of them. Stick to talking to the servants and soldiers – you know how to get information out of them. Interacting with kings is the business of other kings.”

“And advisors apparently,” Gavin point out. “I saw _you_ having a natter with Ryan in the parlour.”

“That's different,” Jack replied, a bit flustered. “I know what I'm doing. I grew up in court.”

“Not a circus. Right.” Gavin huffed a bit, punching lightly at the mattress with one hand. But he perked up when his eyes fell on the scarf again. “Well! I'm still closer than I've ever been! So you'd better win this, Geoff,” he added teasingly, “Because you need to take me to the Wild!”

“We have bigger concerns,” Geoff muttered, “Like the fucking political problems back in the plains. That's why I need to win it. But sure,” he relented, when Gavin looked away, a bit downcast. “If we win, I'll take you to the Wild.”

Gavin smiled, and Geoff smiled back at him. Jack's shoulders slumped in relief, glad that the two of them weren't about to start quarrelling again.

Geoff stretched, yawning, and grimaced, one hand reaching up to rub at his back.

“I'm tense as dicks,” he complained. “One of you give me a massage.”

“Is that an order, your majesty?” Jack teased, and Geoff glanced at him and rolled his eyes.

“I can crack your back if you want,” Gavin offered, stretching his hands out and making some very odd squeezing motions.

“You stay the fuck away from my back,” Geoff warned, and Gavin laughed, reaching to put on his scarf again. Geoff turned to Jack and gave what was probably meant to be an attempt at puppy dog eyes, but managed to miss the mark completely. Jack just laughed and shifted up behind him, reaching to squeeze his shoulders.

They fell into a companionable silence, broken only now and then by Geoff letting out a low groan or muffled pleased sound. Jack worked the tension out of his back – there really was a lot of it, and days spent on horseback hadn't helped – Geoff's eyes had slipped shut and he was dozing off by the time Jack was finished.

“Geoff,” Jack whispered, and he stirred awake. “That better?”

“That was fucking glorious. Thanks,” Geoff added, sincerely, turning and smiling at him. Jack smiled back. They were sitting very close, Geoff slumped against his chest, and the bed was very warm in the chill that had fallen through the stone castle as night settled in. A sudden affection for Geoff swelled up in his chest.

Gavin had fallen asleep some time ago, curled up like a cat at the end of the bed.

“Leave him,” Geoff whispered, when Jack looked over at him. “He's slept in stranger places.”

Jack smiled. He got out of bed and took a spare blanket from the cupboard, draping it carefully over Gavin. He started to tiptoe out of the room, when Geoff called out to him.

“Jack.”

It was quiet, but there was a funny desperation in it, and Jack looked up at him. Geoff was sitting up in the bed, staring right at him. In his loose white bedshirt and with the dim redstone light washing over him, he looked like one of the ghostly figures people claimed wandered through the Wild. Horror stories told to children to scare them from going outside at night.

“Stay,” Geoff said softly. “Stay here tonight. Please?”

Jack hesitated. It wasn't like they hadn't shared a bed before, when on the road and stopping at an inn – but here, in another king's castle, when a servant or maid could walk in at any moment...

But there was something too vulnerable in Geoff's face, and throwing caution out the window, Jack turned the latch on the door behind him. Geoff smiled as he slipped back into the bed, reaching to switch off the redstone lamp by the bedside. They fell into pitch blackness, but Jack felt Geoff burrow closer into his side. He dropped an arm around the other man as he settled down into the bed.

They might be in Ryan's castle, but with the door locked, curled up here together in the warmth and with Gavin's soft, even breathing filling the room around them, he wasn't afraid, and slept easily.

 

* * *

 

They had been preparing the amphitheatre for weeks for the tournament.

The semicircular pit near the barracks and training yards was lined with stone steps, and at this early hour of the morning the sun, high in the sky, was not blocked by the fortress, so the entire theatre was lit up brightly.

The place was more decorated than anything in Ryan's kingdom had been in months – the flags of each kingdom hung above the four tents that had been prepared for each king to ready themselves in, and banners and ribbons lined the seating rows. The place was crowded with people; city-dwellers who weren't going to miss the chance to see every king in the land gathered in one spot, let alone fighting against each other. They weren't all nobles, either; the theatre was big enough that some of the farmers and miners from outside the town had come in as well, and the whole area was abustle with noise and colour.

From where he stood in his own tent, Ryan could hear the rise and fall of chatter outside – a child's shriek, an outpouring of applause as presumably one of the other kings emerged – he closed his eyes, letting it wash over him. He didn't go out among his people as often as he would have liked and this would be the first time many of them would be seeing even their own king in person.

“Are you ready?” Kerry murmured behind him. He tugged the last strap on Ryan's leather armour tight and Ryan opened his eyes.

“Of course,” he replied, and he was – he didn't often get nervous – but he was _apprehensive_ , if anything, and from the way Kerry was looking at him, he could tell the other man was concerned.

“Your whole kingdom is cheering you on,” he said, and at Ryan's scoff, he nodded. “I mean it. They are. They would not have for any other king - or _queen -_ of the Stoneworld. But for you they are here. For you they've come in from the farms and mines to back your victory.”

“Let's hope I don't disappoint them then,” Ryan murmured, but couldn't help the way his lips twitched, even just for a second. Kerry smiled back at him.

“I have to attend to the drawing,” he said, and Ryan nodded, watching him leave. His heart was a little more at ease.

There were very few people he trusted in this kingdom. Even the nobles, the lords, the members of his court – many were still from the time of his mother's reign. He knew what they whispered about him, about the time he spent down in his lab, about the way he managed the kingdom. About how he had inherited the crown. Not everything they said was a lie – some hit too close to the truth – but Kerry, Kerry was beyond all of that. The one person he'd gotten close to when he visited the great universities of the plains in his youth, the only one he trusted to assist with his experiments-

The only one he didn't fear might be planning to stab him in the back if he showed even a second of weakness.

He walked over to the low table in the middle of the tent and crouched down, looking at the coloured glass bottles laid out in neat rows on top. Potions of strength and swiftness that he'd crafted down in his lab. He reached out, then paused.

It wasn't against the rules.

It wasn't against the rules because the others didn't know about the potions; didn't know he was skilled enough to make them, that anyone other than witches _could_. They'd have no idea if he took one here and now.

And it was fair, wasn't it? After all, Michael's gift gave him an edge, and if the others were able to make potions themselves he was sure they wouldn't hesitate.

But he hesitated now. Geoff would cry cheating if he ever found out – he was just _waiting_ for Ryan to slip up, for some opportunity to blame him of dishonour.

 _You don't need it_ , he told himself. _You can win on your own merits._

He straightened up, took a slow breath, and strode out of the tent into the sunlight.

The crowd's roar was immediately almost overwhelming; a dizzying rush of sound and movement as they noticed their king emerging and rose in unison. Ryan stood, watching the masses of people as they all bowed down. It sent an exhilarating thrill through him. He nodded back to them and motioned for everyone to sit back down on the steps before turning to look around for the others.

The last preparations were being made for the matches. There was no sign of Geoff or Ray, but Michael was standing to the side. One of Ryan's servants was offering him the blunted practice swords they would be using so as not to seriously hurt one another, and he was picking them up and swinging each one experimentally, trying to find one of the correct weight.

Ramsey's fool was standing nearby, watching with interest. In the sun he looked like some funny woodland creature, with his elfish features and the sunlight sending an odd shimmer across his creeper scarf.

“This one should do,” Michael said then, nodding to the servant, who bowed and hurried off. He swiped it through the air a few more times before nodding. “Still lighter than my usual sword, but I practiced with these to get used to it.”

“Did you forge your own sword?” Gavin asked, and Michael shook his head.

“No. It's my father's. Been passed through my family for a long time. It's made of pure diamond. Enchanted, too, to never blunt or break.”

“Fancy,” was Gavin's insightful comment, but as Ryan approached Michael picked up his own sword from where it'd been resting against a nearby bench, and unsheathed it. He stopped short, even Gavin falling still.

The sword sparkled so magnificently in the sunlight that it was nearly blinding, sending a cascade of rainbow lights shimmering prettily along the ground. It was huge – a longsword – but Michael lifted it with ease, turning it over in his hands. There was a series of low murmurs from those in the crowd who were watching.

“Bloody hell!” Gavin said finally. “You're going to blind someone with that thing.”

Michael laughed. “You're not impressed?”

“Of course I'm impressed. It's beautiful.” He inched closer and Michael abruptly offered him the hilt. “What?”

“Try lift it.” There was a cheeky grin on Michael's face, and Gavin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He took hold of the sword and let out a strained grunt as the tip dropped to the ground.

“Gods above, why is that so heavy?”

“I told you. It's enchanted, not to mention pure diamond weighs a lot. I bet you can't even lift it.”

Gavin strained at the handle, face contorting, but he could barely get the sword off the ground before he handed it back, giving up.

“What? Not strong enough?” Michael teased, and Gavin pulled a face.

“For your monster sword? Not nearly.” He noticed Ryan walking towards them and bowed. “Your majesty.”

Michael had stiffened at the sight of him.

“Ryan,” he said, rather coldly. It was clear that he disliked him as much as Geoff did. It was no wonder; Ryan would admit himself that he had been quite rude to Michael at first meeting. He couldn't help it; the Alpine kingdom with its brute violence and survival of the fittest mentality had long been everything he despised. Michael's father had reminded him too much of his own mother. He'd been glad when the man died.

“Michael,” Ryan replied, nodding. “I have seen your father wield that sword in battle. A spectacular instrument, though I'll be glad not to be facing it today.”

Michael regarded him thoughtfully.

“Perhaps you would like to try,” he said abruptly, and offered Ryan the sword. Ryan raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was some test or trap – but his own curiosity overcame him, and he grasped it by the hilt.

The sword was shockingly heavy. To look at it you would not think it that tremendously hard to pick up, but there was some force that weighed it towards the ground like a magnetic pull. He could lift it higher than Gavin had, even swing it – but there was no way even he, strong as he was, would be able to fight properly with it.

Michael was watching him with some hidden amusement at his difficulty, but Ryan wasn't embarrassed. He lowered the sword and passed it back to him with a blank face.

“A sword only the Alpine king can wield,” he said. “You could kill anything with that. A gift suited to your kingdom – as my own is to mine.”

Michael nodded.

“In any case,” Ryan continued, “You'll not be using it today. I hope our practice swords will suffice.”

“This will be fine,” Michael replied shortly, sheathing the diamond sword and picking up the blunted one again. Ryan was already ushering the servant over to select his own; he tested the weight and nodded, satisfied – before grabbing another and tossing it to Gavin, who fumbled to catch it and missed.

“For gods' fucking sake, don't throw a _sword_ at him,” Michael snapped. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“It's sheathed.” Ryan said mildly – Gavin was picking the weapon up off the ground, and Ryan drew his own and pointed it at him. “Draw your sword, fool. I need to warm up.”

“Um,” Gavin said, looking rather startled – he glanced uncertainly at Michael, then met Ryan's own eyes as though trying to work out what was going on. Ryan stared calmly back at him.

Despite Gavin's words to him yesterday, he wasn't convinced that Geoff hadn't brought him here for some other, nefarious reason. Maybe it was true that they were just friends – or lovers – but he needed to be _sure_. And he was observant enough that he'd be able to tell when sparring if Gavin was a trained fighter, even if he pretended not to be.

“Go get one of your own servants to fight,” Michael began.

“It's fine, Michael,” Gavin murmured, and Ryan glanced between the two of them with one eyebrow raised.

“ _Michael_?” he demanded – Michael just stared back at him as though daring him to call Gavin out on his lack of propriety, which only confirmed that he had asked the fool to call him by name. Ryan's gaze turned back to Gavin. “Seems like you're everyone's little friend here.”

Gavin just hummed. He was testing the dulled edge of the blade against his thumb, which seemed to indicate that he hadn't the first idea what he was doing with a sword. Michael let out an annoyed hiss and grabbed his wrist.

“You're going to cut yourself.”

“But it's blunted, innit?”

“It's still _sharp_ , idiot.”

“Well, it shouldn't be!” Gavin cried, but shifted his grip to properly grasp the weapon. “Whenever you're ready, sire.”

Ryan took a few steps away from Michael, leading Gavin to the sandy space in the middle of the arena. Cheers started up from the crowd as they realised something exciting was about to happen, but Gavin paid no attention to them, his green eyes focused on Ryan as he got into something resembling a fighting stance. Ryan nodded to him and raised his own sword.

He played it safe at first. He wanted Gavin on the offensive so that he could study his strategy. Ryan darted forward a few times, their swords meeting in fairly slow, controlled clashes before he started hanging back, waiting for Gavin to come to him.

Sure enough, he could see Gavin scanning him, waiting for an opening, his eyes focused and intense. He was light on his feet, practically on his toes. He didn't seem like the sort who'd go easy on a king so as not to offend them – Ryan was counting on that. And indeed, a moment later Gavin lunged forward and swung at him.

It was a clumsy blow, too much energy behind it, and Ryan parried it easily before returning it with his own twisting strike that knocked Gavin's sword from his hand. His grip was weak and he dropped it too easily, stumbling back a few paces from the force of the blow. Ryan's own blade was at Gavin's throat in an instant, making him freeze.

The crowd was cheering. Many of them perhaps didn't realise it had been such an easy victory. Gavin lifted his chin and grinned at him, no fear in his eyes, just a coy amusement. Out here in the sunlight with Michael watching his back, he seemed bolder than he had when they were alone the previous evening. Ryan took a step back and kicked at where Gavin's sword lay on the ground.

“Again,” he demanded, and Gavin nodded. As he moved to pick up his sword, Ryan's gaze darted across to Michael, who was watching with a frown, arms folded.

This time, Ryan swung first and quickly. Gavin didn't block the bow, but rather, ducked it, dancing easily out of the way. He was fast, Ryan noted, but had no idea how to properly hold the sword. He dodged a second swipe, but Ryan was expecting it this time, and swung his sword back immediately. This time Gavin was forced to block, their blades meeting with a ringing _clash_. Gavin yelped in pain, his hand trembling with the strain as Ryan forced the swords closer to him, making him retreat back a few steps-

And then spring backwards so suddenly that Ryan stumbled as well, not having expected him to move so fast or leap so far. Gavin took advantage of his distraction immediately, darting forward and swinging several clumsy swipes at Ryan – he blocked each of them easily before launching his own tirade of attacks; harsh blows that Gavin struggled to block until finally Ryan gave him a deliberate opening. He swung, Ryan sidestepped, and Gavin stumbled, off-guard, his momentum making him fall forward onto the ground, dropping his sword to catch himself on his hands and knees.

“Not much of a fight,” Ryan sneered, and smacked Gavin on the back of the legs with the flat of the sword – not hard enough to hurt, although the fool gave a rather dramatic sort of squawk.

Outwardly Ryan might be mocking, but he was internally relieved as he dismissed any notion of Gavin being an assassin.

 _No one can fake that inexperience. He's not a threat – at least not with a sword_.

“What are you doing?” a voice snapped beside him, and he realised the crowds had hushed. He turned to see Geoff striding towards him, a furious look on his face.

“Warming up,” Ryan replied, staring at him calmly.

“You can't fight him,” Geoff said, nearly spluttering with fury. “He's not trained, he has no fucking armour on-”

“Calm yourself,” Ryan drawled. “He is unhurt.”

Michael moved forward and held out a hand, hauling Gavin easily to his feet. He bounced back up like a rubber ball, brushing himself down and then rubbing his sword arm where the impact of blocking Ryan's blows had jarred him.

“Why would you want to warm up with him?” Geoff was still ranting. “He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag.”

“Clearly,” Ryan said, flatly, and then shrugged, spinning his sword in one hand. “In any case, I am done with him. Leave us, fool, the matches are about to begin.”

Geoff hurried over to Gavin and Ryan watched from the corner of his eye as he practically snatched him from Michael, hands running over him worriedly, face contorted with a too-sincere concern.

“Go sit down,” he ordered. “Are you okay?”

“I'm completely fine, Geoff,” Gavin said brightly. “I mean, I _would_ be publicly humiliated by how easily I lost – if I had any shame, which I do not.”

“Right,” Geoff said drily, and then glanced over at Ryan, seeming a bit flustered. “Well, go sit down then.”

“Good luck!” Gavin cried, and thumped Geoff on the shoulder. Ryan could see people in the crowd whispering and watching them, obviously confused by seeing a jester so close to the king. Geoff seemed to have noticed their audience too; he gave a weak smile but pulled away from Gavin quickly, going to pick out his own sword. Gavin's smile didn't falter as he turned to Michael instead.

“Good luck to you too!”

“Thank you,” Michael replied. Gavin looked over at Ryan and bowed before heading off towards the stairs to sit down. He managed to nearly trip over a bag of equipment left lying on the ground, his arms flailing wildly to regain his balance as he stumbled off. Ryan scoffed, turning his head away.

Clearly not a threat at all. If anything, remarkably useless.

At that moment, Ray emerged from his tent to a final round of cheers. He waved to the crowds before marching directly over to Michael, who had begun grinning at the sight of him. Ray reached out and Ryan caught only the briefest hesitation in his movements before he pulled Michael into a kiss that the other man returned easily. The people from the desert and Alpine delegations roared, and when the two of them pulled apart Ray's face was flushed as he trailed a hand down Michael's arm.

Ryan watched them with a frown. There had been something carefully planned about their first kiss at the dinner. This one seemed more impulsive, and there was something bemused in Michael's eyes, even as he grinned – and something oddly flustered in Ray's face.

It would be useful for Ryan to figure out exactly what the dynamic between the two of them was. He didn't like people surprising him.

But first, it was time for the games.

He raised a hand and the crowd fell completely silent, all eyes trained on their king.

“As we're all here,” he announced, his voice ringing out loudly through the stone amphitheatre. “It is time to begin. Kerry, if you will?”

Kerry and Jack were standing up in a small booth at the top of the amphitheatre. It was where Ryan – or in the past, his mother – usually watched the goings on of the arena. From there, their voices could carry loudly.

The names of the kings would be drawn out at random to determine who would fight who. So as to avoid accusations that the matches were rigged, Kerry would draw one name, and Jack another. The four kings shuffled to stand in a line, staring up at the two men.

“So there is some element of fate here, it seems,” Ryan heard Michael mutter to his side. “The outcome may be different depending on who is drawn.”

“Chance and fate aren't the same thing,” Ray shot back, sounding a bit testy. “Either way I bet no one wants to be drawn against you.”

Michael let out a low chuckle, but fell silent as Kerry reached into the box that had been prepared. He fumbled for a moment, then drew out a name. Jack did the same a moment later, and then bellowed out into the arena:

“The first match will be King Ryan against King Ray.”

There was an outpouring of cheers from the crowd. Ryan couldn't help but feel a rush of relief. Ray would be an easy match – he was confident he could beat him with no trouble.

“That means,” Jack continued, “The second match will be between King Geoff and King Michael. The winners will then go on to compete for first, second and third.”

“Gods fucking damn it,” Geoff, on Ryan's other side, murmured. Ryan glanced at him – he looked quite pale, his nerves apparent. Ryan couldn't blame him. Michael was the main threat in this leg of the competition and having to face him in the first round may well write Geoff off from being in the top two.

“Good luck,” he heard Michael say to Ray, and turned in time to see him clap the other man on the shoulder before retreating to sit down with Geoff. Ray looked up and his eyes met Ryan's. There was a moment where they both sized each other up.

Ryan didn't know much about Ray's training. But he did not come from a warlike kingdom like Michael's, and there were few threats to the desert cities other than the occasional bandit. Natural disasters were their main concern. Ray was much smaller than him – but he may have surprises up his sleeve, and though Ryan was confident, he wasn't inclined to underestimate his opponents.

He held out a hand and Ray's eyes darted suspiciously down to it, and then up to his.

“Good luck,” Ryan said, sincerely. He'd held these games because he wanted a fair fight, and no matter what Geoff thought of him, he had never been anything but sporting.

“You too,” Ray replied as he grasped his hand and shook it. And then, with a self-deprecating scoff, “Don't fuck me up too badly.”

Ryan couldn't help but bark out a laugh.

“Don't worry, they just saw me spar with Ramsey's fool. You can't put on a worse show than that.”

That seemed to please Ray. He laughed uproariously and Michael glanced up where he was sitting, frowning a little. Ryan couldn't help his own smirk as he stepped back, taking his place at one end of the arena, Ray the other.

A tense, hushed silence fell over the theatre. Then the deafening blast of a trumpet rang out from the stands, echoing through the stone space, and the games began.

 

* * *

 

Ryan won in less than five minutes.

It would have been even more embarrassingly quick, but like a cat, it was in Ryan's nature to toy with his prey before he ended it. Perhaps he did it a little too mockingly, relishing how easily he could win once he realised that Ray was a far weaker swordsman than he was.

Perhaps it was mean, or unsporting of him to humiliate the younger king.

The thing was, he didn't dislike Ray. He had little interaction with the desert kingdom, and the other man had been nothing but polite since they met. But he and Michael, conspiring together to take Ryan by surprise – to put _him_ in a position of weakness here in his own kingdom? That, at least, Ryan wanted some little revenge for.

So he took his time with Ray, blocking all the other man's strikes easily and giving him mocking little taps with the blunted sword wherever he could get them in; on the arm, across the back of the legs, on the backside at one point. The crowd soon realised who was in control and those from the Stoneworld roared with laughter. Sitting at the bottom of the steps, Michael's face was set hard and angry.

He ended it soon enough, not wanting to exert all his energy in this first match, and finally knocked Ray's sword from his hand and swung his own blade against the other's throat.

“I yield,” Ray said immediately, staring up at him. His eyes were defiant – a little embarrassment burning under them, but still relentlessly polite. Ryan gave a tight smile and lowered his own sword before extending a hand for Ray to shake.

“A good fight,” he said, and Ray snorted.

“For you, sure.”

“I mean it. You obviously have far less training and practice than I do. But your form is good. Give Geoff a good fight.”

“Assuming I'm against Geoff,” Ray mumbled, and Ryan scoffed.

“You will be. Michael will decimate him.”

“Right,” Ray said. He still seemed a little put out at his public embarrassment – but as Ryan watched, he took a deep breath and visibly shook it off, resuming his previous unruffled appearance as he bowed to Ryan and then turned to smile at the crowd. To look at him you would not think he was bothered at all.

It seemed Ryan was not the only one who liked to put on a public face.

The crowds continued to applaud as the two of them walked back over to the stands and servants came in to sweep the sandy flooring of the arena smooth again. Michael had jumped up and rushed over to Ray, checking him for injury – he was fine; Ryan hadn't hit him hard and he was wearing leather armour besides, but the other man didn't seem convinced, fussing over him like a mother hen.

Gavin had been clapping alongside the Stoneworld audiences, but as Ryan watched Geoff – sitting next to him on the steps – turned to him with a scowl and grabbed his wrist.

“Don't,” Ryan heard him say as he approached. “We didn't want _him_ to win.”

“Seemed inevitable,” Gavin shot back, “Besides, it's polite, innit?”

“You're up next, Ramsey,” Ryan cut in, striding over to them. “I hope you will impress me.”

Geoff shot him an unapologetically dirty look before getting to his feet and picking up his sword.

“If Ray and Michael win the crown, you may regret your rudeness to them during these games,” he said. When Ryan just shrugged, it seemed to piss him off further.

“Good luck Geoff,” Gavin piped up, and then blew him a rather slobbery kiss. “A favour for my lord.”

“Don't do that in front of everyone,” Geoff snapped, glancing up at those sitting above them - “People are watching.”

They weren't, actually – most were preoccupied with where Michael was doing some rather vigorous stretching exercises in the middle of the ring – and either way, most would have assumed that Gavin was just fooling around. But Geoff glared at him and Gavin pulled a face and raised his hands, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged as Geoff strode into the ring.

“Bad luck B,” one of the plains soldiers sitting just behind him murmured, and Gavin twisted around to look up at him, pulling an even more horrendous face.

“Should've given him my handkerchief,” he replied.

"You're just not pretty enough for people to accept your favours.”

Ryan turned away to head to the chair that he had set up – but then paused, something quite malicious taking over him. He was annoyed by Geoff continuing to tell him off about how he was treating Michael and Ray, even if he _did_ have a point – and with a rather childish vindictiveness, he decided that it would really mess with Geoff if he sat down right next to Gavin and watched the match from there.

“Your majesty?” Gavin asked, sounding rather taken aback as Ryan sat beside him. Ramsey's soldiers and courtiers, seated on the steps above, were staring at him and murmuring amongst themselves.

“You have a good view from here,” Ryan said absently, his eyes on Geoff - sure enough, when the other king looked over and saw where he was, he looked shocked, then _furious_. He obviously thought Ryan was plotting something by sitting there, and looked ready to stride over – except the match was beginning in a few moments. He was stuck.

"Your chair has a better view,” Gavin said, and when Ryan turned to him the fool was watching him with sharp eyes. “Are you just trying to get in Geoff's head?”

Ryan shot him a wicked smile, and to his surprise Gavin _laughed_.

“That's horrible of you,” he said, but sounded so amused that Ryan was a little confused. “What a menace you're being!”

“Gavin,” the soldier behind him chided, softly, shooting Ryan a wary look.

Ryan couldn't help but be bemused by the other man's reaction. He seemed genuinely delighted by Ryan's juvenile wind-up tactics. Ryan would have assumed him to be disapproving.

“There is nothing stopping you getting up and sitting elsewhere,” he said slowly.

Gavin tilted his head.

“As you said, my lord, there is a good view from here.” He grinned so mischievously that Ryan fought not to roll his eyes. The fool may be Ramsey's friend, but not, it seemed, so loyal that he was beyond pranks, even ones as mean as this. And there was something a bit cutting in Gavin's laugh. He remembered how Geoff had rebuffed him earlier and raised an eyebrow, filing this information away for later and turning back to the arena as the trumpet blasted to signal the beginning of the match.

Michael's style was heavily offensive. Ryan watched him carefully, studying for when he'd inevitably end up fighting the other man. As soon as the horn sounded, Michael rushed towards Geoff and began hacking away at Geoff, who was forced immediately on the defensive, blocking each harsh blow and seeming immediately strained. Their swords were meeting with such violent clashes that sparks were practically flying from the metal, and Geoff was soon pressed to retreat as Michael let loose a flurry of vicious blows.

Still. Geoff was not untrained, and as he got over the initial shock he quickly realised speed was a better way to play the game, and ducked and dodged each swipe skilfully, avoiding having to actually meet Michael's blade.

“Who are the people of your kingdom going for?” Gavin asked abruptly.

Ryan was surprised he'd dare speak to him.

“Likely, Geoff,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the match.

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I will have to fight Michael next – although I am sure there are some who would like to see the sport in that.”

“Do you think you could beat him? Michael, that is.”

“I'll certainly try.” Ryan couldn't help his smirk as Geoff was forced to block another blow, his arm faltering with how hard Michael had hit at him. He swapped his sword to the other hand and retreated even further, hanging back away from Michael, catching his breath. Even from here Ryan could see his chest heaving.

“Gods,” Gavin breathed. “Look at Michael go! His gift really is a big advantage. It almost seems unfair, when one person has superhuman strength. He needs some sort of handicap; even the playing field a bit.”

Ryan thought immediately of the potion, back in his tent. The mixture would have given him strength to rival Michael's – and looking at the other man now, he was almost wishing that he'd used it, because it was quite terrifying to see him relentlessly beating down on Geoff like that, knowing he'd have to face him next.

Brute force appeared to be Michael's strategy of choice. He didn't ever have to defend because his opponent never had so much as a chance to retaliate. With a roar he charged Geoff again, forcing him right back against the arena wall. The crowds cried out, straining to see as Geoff frantically blocked three ringing blows from Michael before managing to slip out under his arm and run back to the centre of the theatre.

Michael turned, running after him, his sword raised. He sent another mighty swing towards Geoff, who didn't even raise his sword, seeming to stand almost transfixed, staring at the blade coming towards him-

Only to dodge at the very last second, stepping aside. Michael stumbled – there was so much force behind the blow that to hit nothing but air caught him off balance.

This was it.

This was Geoff's chance. The only opening he'd get in probably the entire fight. If he moved quickly, struck true, he could potentially disarm Michael-

But in the crowd's breathless silence, before their eyes he stepped forward and swung so clumsily that he missed Michael completely and ended up stumbling himself. It was a crude blow, embarrassing to _watch_ , and was met by a series of loud groans.

“Bloody hell.” Beside Ryan, Gavin was literally clutching at his hair. “For gods' sake, he _choked_ , he bloody choked! Geoff, _why_. How did he bollocks it _so badly_?”

“Hey,” Ryan couldn't help saying, “After your performance in our sparring earlier you don't get to comment on other people's failures.” And then, a second later, “But yes, that was _incredibly_ embarrassing.”

Geoff managed to get another swing in, but Michael, recovered now, parried it – and then, with their swords locked together, reached out with his other hand and grabbed Geoff by the arm. With another great cry he swung his arm and hurled Geoff bodily through the air, one-handed.

The crowd gasped. Geoff landed heavily on the ground several metres away and skidded through the sand before lying still – Gavin sat up, alarmed, but they could see him breathing from here.

“Fucking hell,” the soldier sitting behind them said. “He just _threw_ him.”

Michael strode towards Geoff, who was starting to clamber onto his hands and knees. He kicked the sword out of Geoff's hand and brought his own to press against the side of Geoff's neck. The fallen king froze, and Michael tapped him gently on the shoulder with the blade.

“Do you yield?” he asked, and the entire arena went silent.

From this angle Ryan couldn't see Geoff's face. But he could see how tense his shoulders were, and when he finally spoke it was tight and grudging.

“I yield.”

“Okay, but what if you say no, though?” Gavin piped up immediately.

Ryan ignored him, bringing his hands together to clap along with most of the arena. Noisiest was Michael's delegation, where his soldiers were roaring and practically beating on their chests. The soldier behind them was clapping too, and Gavin twisted around and thumped him on the leg.

“Why the fuck are you clapping, Dan? Support Geoff for gods' sake!”

“Look, that throw was pretty damn impressive.”

Ryan ignored the two of them, standing up and striding over to where Michael had offered Geoff a hand. The other man shook him off, clambering to his feet and brushing himself down. He was covered in sand and his face was red, from exertion or embarrassment, it was unclear which.

“A good fight,” Michael was saying, trying to brush Geoff clean, but the other man batted him away.

“I can do it myself,” he snapped, and Ryan felt a tug of malicious amusement at his annoyance.

Jack had hurried down from the box and was headed for Geoff's side, reaching out to see if he was okay. Geoff shrugged him off too, looking up as Ryan came right up to him.

“Unfortunate, Geoff,” he said smoothly. “I'd say it was the luck of the draw making you go against Michael, but you really threw away that chance you had in the middle of the fight. I said to impress me but really, you only made me feel quite sad for you.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Geoff snapped.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I never took you to be a sore loser. Or, well, a _loser_ , but here we are.”

Geoff went even redder with rage. Before he could say any more, Jack stepped between them, one hand on Geoff's shoulder keeping him back as he stared calmly up at Ryan.

“Calm down, Geoff,” he said quietly. “His majesty the Stone King has, it seemed, resorted to stirring you up. I'm sure we all know that it is as important to be gracious in winning as it is in losing.”

He was looking at Ryan with something not annoyed, but close to _disappointed_. It made him falter, falling silent, something far too close to shame curling in his gut. Jack looked at him a moment longer before turning to Michael.

“Congratulations on your victory,” he said, and nudged Geoff until he held out a hand. Michael shook it, looking rather like a child caught in the middle of some conflict who was glad that an adult had come to sort things out. Jack picked up Geoff's sword and led him away, and Michael glanced at Ryan before sidling off.

Ryan stood, staring after them. After a moment he abruptly turned on his heel and marched back into his own tent. He felt shaky suddenly – unpleasantly chastened – and couldn't quite figure out why.

If it had been anyone else, he'd have brushed it right off. But Jack – Jack was different, somehow. Last night he had been impressed by the other man. And he was fascinated by Geoff's interactions with his two companions, but Jack in particular...

The two of them were obviously very close. So close that Geoff must trust him completely. Not only that, but Jack was clearly a valuable asset to him. Someone whose guidance he could follow, who could help him lead.

Ryan trusted Kerry. But he still kept a measure of distance between them – didn't talk to Kerry about anything too personal. Didn't tell him his secrets or like to show weakness in front of him. And Kerry got more leeway than most of his court, but there was still a clear divide in status between them. Not to mention that Kerry was great down in the lab, working on Ryan's projects with him, but knew little of politics and couldn't be any use there.

The relationship between Geoff and Jack, on the other hand, was the ideal that Ryan longed for, if he could only trust anyone enough. And somehow, Jack's disappointment in him – Jack looking at him like he _disliked_ him – made Ryan suddenly ashamed of his mocking and needling at Geoff, of pushing all the other kings aside even if it was just to keep them at bay and protect himself, to keep projecting his image as cold, untouchable, uncaring.

He clenched his fists. Forced it away.

_You barely know him. Who cares. Focus on winning, that's all that matters right now._

 

* * *

 

Ray bounced up from his seat with a grin as Michael began to walk out of the arena, only to pause when the other man headed straight for his delegation of warriors, sitting in one section of the steps. They met him with cheers and bellows, thumping him on the shoulder and clapping him on the back. They looked like nothing so much as a rowdy sports team, and Michael was yelling right back at them.

It made Ray falter, suddenly shy to walk over there.

He didn't belong in that din. Michael's warriors were all towering, muscular fellows. With their vibrant furs and big calloused hands and flashing, fierce eyes, they seemed like a pack of wolves, with Michael the alpha.

And Ray – Ray was the rose king. He wasn't built for combat – he ruled with the soft, maternal touch of nature. He didn't belong in Michael's world, and he'd never thought it until now, but he felt suddenly and acutely like an outsider, if only because he longed so much to be over there with him.

He shook himself – _don't be stupid, of course you're different, that's what you love about him –_ and glanced over to look at Geoff. His defeat had perhaps been even more humiliating than Ray's, just because he was supposed to be a better swordsman. He was sitting with his delegation and looked pissed off, Jack and Gavin fussing around him. The sight of the fool made Ray frown.

He didn’t like that Ryan had been sitting with him over there. Gavin was just a clown, nothing more, but here was everyone paying attention to him, seemingly for no good reason.

At least now Geoff seemed to be shrugging him off, brushing Gavin's hand from his shoulder and snapping back in response to whatever stupid thing the fool had undoubtedly said. Ray put them from his mind and turned back to Michael.

The other man was still laughing with his men – but he turned, now, and caught sight of Ray. That boyish grin that made Ray's heart melt spread across his face, and he beckoned him over. Ray smiled back, far too shyly, and made his way over to him.

“Congratulations,” he called out as he got near, only to yelp when Michael caught his hand and yanked him forward, pulling him into a tight hug. He laughed, hugging him back, but he could feel the eyes of everyone in the amphitheatre on them, and pulled back to grab Michael's wrist. “Come on – there's a break before the next match. Come rest in my tent, I'll have some drinks sent for.”

“Ramsey's a tough opponent,” Michael said, following easily after him. “For a moment there I thought he had me.”

“Yeah, until you fucking threw him through the air like a javelin.” His heart was pounding, from the excitement of the match, only intensifying as they entered the cool interior and solitude of the tent. He let go of Michael and turned to face him only to find the other man's chest a lot closer than he'd expected. His face flushed and he stepped back.

Watching Michael throw Geoff through the air like he weighed no more than a ragdoll had been not only impressive but far more attractive than he wanted to admit. He'd known Michael was strong – had seen him spar, heard tales of his prowess – but it was the first time really seeing his gift in action. And looking at him now – face flushed, curls damp with sweat, eyes sparkling – knowing the power he held inside – it somehow only intensified the fact that with Ray, he'd never been anything but gentle. It made his cheeks heat and he turned away quickly.

“You're amazing, you know,” he murmured, and Michael laughed behind him.

“You've seen me fight before.”

“Not like that. Everyone out there must be terrified of you. Unlike me, getting embarrassed by Ryan like that.”

“I hate him.” There was a snapping, vicious anger in Michael's voice. “I'm gonna fucking tear him apart next round for humiliating you in front of everyone.”

“It's okay. You know what Ryan's like,” Ray said – and he wasn't even that angry about it, because he'd seen the smug looks Ryan shot Geoff every two seconds and it was obviously part of the man's act to wind everyone up as much as possible.

“No, it's not,” Michael insisted, and Ray could only give a little smile. His protectiveness was warming, and again he couldn't help that nagging hope that maybe Michael did feel the same way. That they could be something more.

He turned back to him and laughed at Michael's furious pout.

“Don't pull that face. Here. We'll rub our plan in Ryan's face again.” He bent and pushed the rugs covering the tent floor aside. The same sandy ground as the arena was underneath, but as Ray pressed his palm to it, it quickly turned to rich soil. A small rose bush sprang out of it and as soon as a single red flower bloomed, Ray plucked off the stem. He walked over to Michael and tied it through one of the leather loops of his armour.

“My favour,” he said, and Michael laughed, reaching up to touch it.

“That'll remind everyone that no matter who wins, our kingdoms are united. Good idea.”

Ray flushed at his praise, and even more so at the sight of his own symbol, resting right over Michael's heart. He played it off with a laugh and quickly tugged Michael to sit down, to rest and refresh themselves before the final encounters.

 

* * *

 

Ray and Geoff fought next, for third place.

It was not as humiliating a defeat as with Ryan, but still over a little too quickly. No one was surprised. Ray had focused on studying plants most of his life. Geography, botany – that was the knowledge he needed to make his kingdom prosper. The fighting could be left to his soldiers. When it came to arms, archery was his main passion. He just was not physically suited to the sword.

Still – initially, he had the advantage. Geoff was tired and sore from his fight with Michael, and Ray was on the offensive first, drawing on the little training he did have to exchange a quick flurry of blows with the older king. But it quickly became apparent that even when he was exhausted, Geoff was a brilliant swordsman.

Before long he was forced on the defensive, and though he got a few jabs in, Geoff blocked each of them before knocking his arm aside and striking at him again. Ray parried too late and Geoff's blunted sword hit him in the ribs. Dull pain bloomed through his side and he stumbled sideways to gasps from the audience, the wind knocked out of him as he dropped to his knees.

He was still holding his sword, and when Geoff swung at him again he blocked it – but their swords locked at the hilt and Geoff forced them towards his throat. Ray's arm hurt with the strain of trying to push the blades away – Geoff was bigger than him, stronger.

“Yield?” Geoff asked – Ray looked up and met the other man's blue eyes. There was something intense in them, almost angry, and he nodded.

He knew when it was over.

“I yield,” he replied, and gasped in relief as Geoff abruptly stepped back and he dropped his own sword to rub at his side. The crowds began to cheer, especially the enormous group of people Geoff had brought with him.

His side hurt. Nothing was broken, but even a blunted sword could leave a hell of a bruise through his armour. When Geoff turned back to him, that odd intensity was gone from his eyes, replaced by concern.

“Are you okay?” he demanded. “Shit, how hard did I hit you?”

“I'm fine,” Ray assured him. “All part of the games.”

Geoff offered him a hand and Ray grasped it, letting the other man pull him easily to his feet. Unlike Ryan, Geoff clasped his hand for a long moment, eyes scanning over him as though assuring himself that he hadn't injured the younger man too badly.

“That was less humiliating than round one at least,” Ray said, and Geoff scowled.

“Ryan was an asshole to toy with you like that.”

“Hey, we're all playing our own game here,” Ray said. “You already know how Michael and I are doing this. If Ryan's tactic is to try and get in our heads by _embarrassing_ us all, well, that's his gig. I won't let it affect me.”

Geoff looked at him for a long moment as though turning the words over in his mind.

“Right,” he said softly, and Ray shook his hand.

“Congratulations on third.”

Geoff smiled a bit, and Ray turned back to face the audience. Gavin was cheering and dancing rather wildly at the front of the stands. He seemed oblivious to a dark-haired young soldier sitting behind him who kept throwing peanut shells at him, trying to get them in the hood formed by his scarf. When one finally caught Gavin on the back of his head he looked comically startled before whirling around and scolding the soldier, who broke down laughing.

Somehow, weirdly, it made Ray feel better to see that Gavin had a life and _friends_ outside of these games and Michael. It seemed obvious, but his irrational fear that he would steal Michael away somehow had remained. Again he reminded himself that after these games Gavin would return to the plains and they'd never see him again.

 _But you and Michael will marry. That's for life_.

 

* * *

 

The final match took place just after noon. While there had been something raucous about the games before – the crowds noisy and jovial, people laughing and cheering along – an odd solemnity took everyone over as it seemed to hit home that whoever won this duel would be well in the lead to getting the crown – and another kingdom.

As Michael strode into the field Ray watched, nervousness coiling in his stomach. He couldn't stop staring at his favour – a bright spot of red against Michael's breast, standing out against the lifeless sand and stone of the amphitheatre. Red like blood. Red like rage.

The trumpet sounded. The fight began.

It was a battle to behold, and the entire arena watched in a breathless silence as the two men circled each other cautiously for a moment before both leaping at each other at once. They had two vastly different fighting styles – Ryan moved like a dance, with strong fluid movements and graceful sweeping turns. Michael moved like a storm, an unstoppable force that ran at his enemies to beat them into the ground.

It seemed that Ryan had been paying attention to Michael's previous fights. He avoided getting in grabbing distance, and didn't directly block any of his strikes, not wanting to pit their strength against each other. Rather, he deflected each blow to the side, or dodged them bodily by jumping completely out of the way. The audience was silent, only the sound of scraping metal and the occasional grunt or yell from the combatants echoing through the stone theatre.

Ryan ducked out of the way of another blow, but not quite fast enough – Michael's sword hit him in the arm so hard that everyone watching hissed in sympathy. Ryan stumbled, and from his front-row seat Ray saw his face twist in pain. It had hurt enough being hit by Geoff – a blow from Michael and his inhuman strength must be far worse. But Ryan just adjusted his grip on his sword and shook his injured arm out before pushing on.

Their blades met again – and again, until finally Ryan feinted left and struck right. He caught Michael off guard, but the other man reacted quickly, swinging his sword around to block the blow. Still, he was off-balance enough that Ryan got a leg up and _kicked_ him, catching him in the ribs. Michael fell backwards but caught himself. He lifted his head and even from this distance Ray saw him bare his teeth in a snarl before springing at Ryan again, the two of them ending up locked in a flurry of quick blows. Like a spell had been broken, the silence in the arena erupted into excited yells as people stood up, straining to see, the two of them were moving so fast.

Even Ray leaned forward, his eyes locked on them. To behold the two strong bodies moving in tandem had his mouth suddenly dry. Michael was one thing to watch, always had been – the muscles in his arms straining with each mighty swing of his sword, the power behind each thrust and movement – but Ryan, suddenly, was just as transfixing.

Ray had heard a lot about the Mad King. Most of what people spoke of was his mind – his wit, his cunning. Even fanciful rumours – that he could tell what you were thinking, could read your emotions with a look. That he had a tongue of silver and spun lies like webs. But here, too, his body was just as impressive, tall and strong and fluid as he held his own in the fight, a constant push-and-pull, neither of them giving in. If Michael was a bear, then Ryan was a lion, lithe and golden and fearsome in the reddish afternoon sun of the Stoneworld. It sent a shiver down Ray's spine and he couldn't even imagine how the people in the arena must feel to see their king like this.

Finally, Michael gave one last push. With a great roar he charged Ryan, forcing him back a few places, and bore down on him with three great, hacking blows, the full strength of his gift behind them. Each one made Ryan stumble and the final one sent his sword skittering from his hand.

In a flash, Michael's blade was at his throat, and the arena fell into a silent stillness again. They could see the two mens' chests heaving, the glint of sunlight against Michael's blade – Ryan stood with his back very straight, his head tilted back and the point of the blade pushing against his throat. Something very proud in his stance, despite his position.

“Do you yield?” Michael's voice was ragged and tired but the crowd was so silent that everyone could hear it.

“I yield,” Ryan replied calmly, and Michael lowered his sword.

The Alpine delegation erupted into their enthusiastic celebrations once again, and Ray's party did as well – the two were one now, after all. Geoff's people were also clapping, and while some of the Stoneworld nobles were muttering amongst themselves, obviously bitter at their kingdom's loss, many of the commoners were clapping too, showing rather more manners than the upper city dwellers had.

Ryan offered Michael a hand, more gracious in his own defeat, it seemed, than he had been in others'.

“Get up,” someone hissed next to Ray, and he looked over to see Geoff. He realised with a start that he'd been so busy beaming at Michael that he hadn't realised the kings were meant to be moving, and he quickly hurried after Geoff to stand in the middle of the arena with the others.

Michael glanced over at him and grinned. He looked marvellous, dishevelled and sweaty but beaming with the thrill of his victory, and he was radiating heat like a furnace when Ray came and stood at his side, reaching out to press his wrist.

“The first challenge of the games is over,” Kerry hollered out from the box, after a few blasts of the trumpet to make everyone fall silent. “In the final place is King Ray, with no points. In third, King Geoff, with three points. In second place, King Ryan, with five points. And in the lead, King Michael, with ten points.”

Michael raised his arms and bellowed so loudly that everyone standing next to him cringed a little. Ray started laughing after a second, and Michael turned to him.

“My first place is your first place,” he said, and Ray could only grin at him. As people in the stadium began to move, he caught sight of Ryan heading straight back to his tent – of Geoff, grim-faced, moving off towards Jack on the sidelines-

But he quickly forgot about them, focused on Michael. Michael, next to him. Michael, who had won for both of them. Michael, whose presence seemed to fill his whole head with a dizzying rush. Before he could stop himself, he was pulling the other man into a kiss.

Michael let out a little surprised noise, but quickly kissed him back. And it was becoming familiar, now, the other man's lips against his – the odd mix of aggression in how he took control, the scrape of teeth against lips – and the gentleness in how his hands settled against Ray's waist, so warm that he could feel the heat of it even through his clothes.

When they pulled apart, Michael was grinning, but quickly distracted by his soldiers, who'd come up to cheer him. Even then, Ray couldn't pull away from him, almost drunk on exhilaration. He stayed by his side, all over Michael perhaps a bit too excitedly – touching him; hands on his chest, his arms, his hip, butting into the conversation to sing his merits and praise how the fight had turned out – Michael kept one arm around him, looking at him fondly now and then, and maybe if he'd been thinking straight Ray might've checked himself, tried to play it cooler. But right now he couldn't help it. He adored Michael so much and the marriage gave him an excuse to show it without the consequences of Michael finding out.

And here and now, everything seemed to be going exactly to plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wardens-oath made [a fantastic playlist for this story](http://8tracks.com/caketin/where-the-lost-go). I’ve been listening to it a lot while writing! Thank you so much <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Don't touch me. I need a minute. I just _need a minute_ -”

Jack raised his hands and took a step back as Geoff shook him roughly off and returned to furiously pacing the small length of their tent. His hands were clenched into fists, held close to his mouth, and Jack could see the barely restrained rage boiling under the surface of his skin. He was pent up and vibrating and _angry_ -

And after a moment he snatched up one of the bottles of wine sitting on the low table in the middle of the room and started swigging from it, barely even pausing to breathe between gulps.

Jack bit his lip and reached forward again.

“Let me get that armour off you,” he began, but Geoff angrily swiped at him, wine splashing out onto the floor and soaking into the rug like bloodstains.

“I'm _fine_ , Jack!” he yelled, so loudly that Jack couldn't help flinching a little. “Just – just give me some fucking _space_.”

Jack raised his hands again, stopping where he stood. He didn't know what to do – had never seen Geoff this worked up. Even at his angriest, his most stressed, it hadn't been like _this_. There was a nearly panicked desperation in his movements, and Jack watched as he lifted a trembling hand and continued to drink until the bottle was empty and he immediately reached for another one. He downed half of that, too, before finally lowering it and standing there, arms hanging by his sides, shoulders shaking.

Tentatively, he approached again. Geoff glanced up at him with red eyes and let out a noise far too close to a growl when Jack touched his arm, but didn't stop him as he started to undo the buckles and straps of his leather armour.

When it was finally off, Jack hissed in sympathy. There was a bloody graze down Geoff's arm, staining his undershirt red in places, where he'd skidded against the gravelly sand of the arena floor after Michael threw him.

“Do you need something for that?” he asked, but Geoff shook his head and slumped down to sit on the floor. Jack raised his eyebrows and went to fetch a bowl of water and a washcloth anyway.

“My manservants could do that,” Geoff spoke up after a moment, voice dull. “That's what I fucking brought them here for.”

“You want them to see you like this?” Jack pointed out, and Geoff looked offended for a moment before turning away.

“You think I'm throwing a tantrum,” he huffed. “I'm _not_. Just – third _fucking_ place – we need this, Jack, we need to _win this_ and I just fucking threw it away-”

“Calm down,” Jack said, and crouched next to him, reaching to pull his sleeve up and press the cool washcloth to his arm. “It's okay. We can make it up in the other rounds.”

“I have to come first in at least one of them or it's all over. I just – I fucking _choked_ , the chance was right there and I completely fucked it up-”

“It's okay,” Jack repeated, a bit helplessly. “It's okay, look, we'll-”

“It's _not okay_.” Geoff snatched his arm away so vigorously that the bowl of water fell from where it'd been precariously balanced on Jack's knee and spilled out onto the floor between them. Jack stared at him, frozen, the tent caught in a tense silence broken only by Geoff's ragged breaths.

And he was right.

Things weren't okay.

Jack had thought he might be able to calm Geoff down. That they'd go back to their rooms, sit together, and refocus and revise their game plan.

But the other man stormed off back to the fortress soon after. Dodged the courtiers from his own party who came up to try and talk to him, looking furious and frantic. Locked Jack out of his room and then went to bathe on his own – he was no calmer when he eventually emerged, avoiding everyone as he went off to lurk around the fortress on his own for the rest of the evening.

 _Give him space_ , was all Jack could think, helplessly.

Later. The archery range. He lingered in the doorway and watched Geoff fire arrow after arrow at the straw targets. His arm was shaking, his aim all over the place, and Jack could see him getting increasingly worked up as he missed every shot. He could only watch, a pain steadily building in his chest – and under that, a lurking fear.

Because Geoff was right. They needed to win this, they really, _really_ needed to win this. And when they'd first arrived, Jack had been confident that Geoff could hold his own against the other kings.

But it was clear that the pressure, combined with this early loss, was starting to become a bit too much. And he wanted to help, to fix this somehow, but Geoff had clearly pushed him away earlier.

So all he could do for now was _wait. Keep trying. Give him space for now._

 

* * *

 

Ryan stood down in his laboratory, scribbling furiously at a piece of parchment. It was light work – brainstorming more than anything – but after today's tournament it was a relief to be down here alone, doing something he loved. The effort of keeping up appearances was more strenuous than he sometimes liked to admit. But here in his own rooms – with his hair tied loosely back and dressed in a casual, well worn tunic rather than his usual royal garments – it was the only place in the entire fortress save his personal chambers where he was free to drop the facade, to stop worrying about what everyone was thinking as they looked at him.

He got up from his seat and walked over to the cabinets by the door where he stored ingredients. Opening it and frowning in concentration as he tried to track down what he needed, he reached for the top shelf and grabbed a jar only to hiss as the motion tugged at the painful bruise on his arm where Michael's sword had hit him.

He pulled his arm back automatically and the jar slipped from the shelf-

Only for someone to grab it just before it hit the floor.

Ryan blinked, so confused for a moment that he couldn't move. Then he turned to find Gavin, standing in the doorway next to the cupboard, holding the jar.

“...are these eyeballs?” the fool demanded, shaking it vigorously.

First, shock. Then a furious _rage_ because this was _his_ space, this lab, his one private place where he could fucking _be himself_ , and his walls were slamming up so hard that he didn't know what to think-

Not to mention the immediate alarm that shot through him because the project was in here, and no one could see that, no one could _know_ – he glanced across the room, but the door leading down to the lab basement was firmly shut, to his relief.

“Give me that,” he snapped. He snatched the jar, putting it back in the cupboard before rounding on Gavin, who stared dumbly up at him. “What the _fuck_ are you doing in here?”

“You said to bring the scarf for you to look at!” Gavin said.

“I don't care what I said. You do _not_ come in here without permission – how did you even know where this _was_?”

Gavin just shrugged, and Ryan let out an angry hiss. His heart was pounding and all he could do was wonder how long Gavin had been standing in the doorway, watching him – watching him _here_ , with his walls down, his mask off, what he must _think_ – he grabbed Gavin's arms and shook him hard.

“I mean it. Who told you where this was? How did you get in here?”

“I'm good at finding things out!” Gavin yelped. “Look, I'm sorry, alright, I didn't realise this was off-limits-”

“Geoff has sent you here to spy on me,” Ryan growled – Gavin tugged at his arm but couldn't so much as budge Ryan. He shook his head frantically.

“No! Gods, no, he doesn't know I'm here! And don't tell him, please. He was already so mad that I talked to you. He told me not to come near you. He's well pissed about coming third in the matches today so he'll have my hide if he finds out I disobeyed him again. Look, I'm not here to spy or anything, I just want to know about this scarf! I thought you did too!”

Ryan continued to glare at him. Gavin gave up his struggles and stared back at him earnestly, eyes wide. Ryan stared back, and couldn't see a lie.

 _He didn't sneak in here_ , he realised. _He just waltzed right in. A spy wouldn't do that. And it does sound like Geoff to order him not to come near me._

 _Yet here he is_.

“I warned you last time that I didn't want you looking around anywhere you shouldn't be,” he said, slowly. “Geoff's protection or not, I can have you punished for this.”

Gavin's eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said, miserably. “But... didn't you want to find out more about the scarf as well? What if I promise not to touch anything?”

Ryan scoffed. He let go of Gavin's arm and the other man rubbed it before looking up with a hopeful smile. Ryan paused, taken aback. The last time they'd spoken Gavin had been wary of him – and once Ryan brought up the creeper skin, _curious_ – but certainly not friendly.

Then again, he realised, things were different in here. When he had his crown on, was sat atop his throne, he knew he radiated power and an aloof hostility. He did it deliberately.

But in here – in here he was a different person, and even if he'd been alarmed when Gavin first walked in, curiosity about the scarf was already winning him back over. This Ryan didn't want to get in an argument, not here in his lab. This Ryan just wanted to investigate the damn thing, and he sighed and held out a hand, ushering Gavin in and shutting the door behind him.

Gavin's eyes lit up as he scurried into the room, immediately peering around.

“Bloody hell, what is all this stuff?”

“Do _not_ touch anything,” Ryan snapped. He had some sensitive things in progress – a failed attempt at a portal at one end of the room – an ender pearl encased in glass – numerous half-completed potions at crafting stations around the room, not to mention the various redstone projects as he experimented with different circuitries.

“You're doing so many experiments here! Oh! Is this what you were telling me about before? How you said you were trying to find ways to repel mobs?” Gavin asked, bouncing over to where the skeletal remains of a draugr had been reconstructed on an armour stand.

“Yes,” Ryan replied, a bit surprised he'd remembered.

“That's amazing. I love science.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Ryan scoffed, and Gavin glanced over at him indignantly.

“What?” he demanded. “I'm not _actually_ stupid! I know how to read and Geoff has a big library. I'm most interested in alchemy. Do you do alchemy here? A lot of people back in the plains are into that.”

“What, trying to create gold?”

“Yes!”

“I've heard about it,” Ryan replied. “I've read alchemists' papers and it is all foolery. It's impossible to create an element like gold purely from mixing other chemicals.”

“It's only impossible until someone does it,” Gavin said, in a very solemn voice.

“No,” Ryan replied flatly. “It's impossible because it's impossible.”

“What about with magic?”

Ryan rolled his eyes as he moved to clear off one of the laboratory benches.

“I told you last time. There's no such thing as magic, except for the crowns and the gifts.”

“Well, you're able to transform stone into redstone, right?” Gavin asked, and Ryan glanced over at him, wary. Gavin wasn't even looking at him – had moved on to peer into a vat of slime. “What if there's someone out there who's able to transform things into gold? And that's _their_ gift?”

“There are only five gifts,” Ryan replied, but couldn't help but shake his head, fighting not to smile at the other man's ridiculous insistence. “Either way, haven't you heard the myths about kings with ancient powers like that? They never end well. Gold isn't everything.”

“Okay, well, consider this. This is the other thing that I've always wondered about. Are you ready? Prepare yourself.” Gavin turned to him with an enormous grin and Ryan could only stare at him. It had been a long, _long_ time since someone _grinned_ at him. “So there's five kingdoms and they're all bound by a crown with a gift. But what about the other huge body of land that no one's in charge of yet?”

“And what would that be?”

“The _moon_ ,” Gavin cried, and made a flurry of very excited hand gestures. “What if there's a crown up there? Someone could be the _Moon King_! Every other place in the world has a gift attached to it. I hardly think the moon should be any different.”

Ryan could only stare at him. After a moment, despite himself, he broke down laughing. It had been a long time since he heard something so stupid, but Gavin had said it with such enthusiasm that it was clear he actually _believed_ it. And he laughed a lot at people – mockingly – but this was just so _silly_ that he couldn't help being genuinely amused.

“What? Don't laugh.”

“That is by far the most inane thing I've ever heard,” Ryan said. He'd meant it to be cutting, but somehow it came out as teasing more than anything else, and Gavin huffed.

“That's my theory and I'm going to write a paper on it,” he said. Ryan shook his head.

“You'll be laughed out of academia. Give me your scarf,” he added, holding out a hand. Gavin started to unwind it, only to pause.

“I need to stay and watch, your majesty,” he said, and the sudden formality took Ryan aback – he was so unused to people addressing him by title down here that it felt almost uncomfortable. Power fit like a glove above ground, in his fortress, when interacting with the politicians and courtiers and soldiers of his kingdom. But down here in the lab, he often got so in the zone that he forgot he was king. Sometimes he even felt like he was back at university, before the burden of leadership had called him home.

“That is fine,” he said, and added, “I'm not about to set it on fire or anything, if that's what you're afraid of.”

“I need to be sure you'll take care of it,” Gavin insisted. “It's the only thing I have from... from my family.”

His bright voice faltered a little at the end and again, Ryan felt himself soften. People called the Mad King cruel but he wasn't, never had been, even if he let that reputation stand so that people would be wary of crossing him. The difference was, this time it must've shown in his face – he wasn't used to hiding here – and Gavin must have seen it, because his eyes widened. Before Ryan had time to be embarrassed at letting any sort of sympathy show, he took the scarf off and handed it over. Ryan snatched it and turned away, breathing deeply as he sat down at the bench and spread the scarf out flat.

Gavin dragged a stool up and perched next to him. He did not seem at all perturbed to be so close to the king, and Ryan glanced at him before shaking it off, too interested in the scarf to bother trying to put him in his place. He quickly decided it would be more efficient to put the boy to work, anyway, and passed him a quill and paper to make notes of every observation.

For a while they were focused on the work. Ryan brought a great glass lens out and inspected every inch of the material, considering its shape, the texture, where it had been cut at the edges. He was used to doing this to anything new he discovered, alone – but somehow, it was even more exciting with Gavin there, just as eagerly intrigued by everything he proposed, responding with questions or comments that often prompted Ryan to further thought.

“But it doesn't _feel_ like skin,” was his main protest. “It's not leather. It just feels like a fabric.”

“Mobs are strange things. Endermen have a very velvety pelt, and draugr have no skin at all. This may feel like fabric but I'm almost certain it's some sort of animal organic matter – see, look at this.”

Ramsey's fool was a bright one, Ryan couldn't help thinking as they progressed. He kept up with Ryan easily and was a quick thinker, constantly making connections and coming up with new ideas. It was refreshing to have a new set of eyes – usually Kerry was the only one he was able to run anything by.

Eventually they fell into silence as Ryan examined the material under a stronger light. When he looked up, blinking away bright spots, it was to find Gavin watching him intently, almost thoughtfully. All Ryan's previous wariness flooded back full-force. He knew exactly what Gavin was thinking.

That he seemed different here. Softer. That he was almost another person.

He didn't need anyone digging about underneath the surface. But before he could do anything about it, Gavin opened his mouth.

“Can I tell you something funny?” he asked.

Ryan blinked, then tilted his head, confused enough that his previous worries slipped from his mind.

“Funny?”

“Not _ha ha_ funny. Strange-funny.” He chewed at his lip, oddly hesitant.

“I suppose I can't stop you,” Ryan said, and Gavin looked up again, something strange in his face.

“You could. You could order me to shut up. You could tell me just to leave right now. I'd have to do it. You're the king.”

 _You're the king_. Those words had never felt uncomfortable to Ryan before. He didn't like that they did now.

“Well, you have me intrigued now,” he said, and turned to face Gavin properly. “Go on then.”

“I heard this a long time ago. But I forgot about it until a few days back – when Michael and King Ray got engaged. And now I keep thinking about it. Back when I was in the circus, there was an old lady – a fortune teller. People said she used to be a witch. She was always talking about magic and curses and one thing I remember her saying was that the crowns and the gifts were all meant to be linked.”

“Linked how?” Ryan asked.

“I'm not sure,” Gavin replied, very helpfully. “What I mean is – all the kings are meant to be united. Right now, everyone uses their own gift in their own kingdom. But this Wild crown, when one of you wins it – that's going to be the first time someone has _two_ gifts. But why stop there? Three gifts, four, _five..._ You can control redstone. You use it in your kingdom and it's the most powerful source of energy. But that would be just as useful in the plains, or the alps, or the desert. And King Ray makes the land fertile. He could bring life to the Stoneworld with his gift. Michael's strength would be an asset in the Wild because he could defend himself against mobs. And Geoff's Sight could be used to keep an eye on things no matter where he's at.”

“Are you suggesting that one man should wield all five gifts?” Ryan asked slowly. “One king ruling over all five lands?”

“No,” Gavin replied. “I just thought that since Michael and King Ray are married now, they might use their gifts to help each others' kingdoms. And that maybe that's what the old lady was getting at. That all five kings should be working together to use their gifts for _everyone's_ benefit instead of only helping their own little section of land. I don't know. She was very old and I think she was a bit barmy, but whenever she got talking about the crowns she'd go on and on about how long ago everything went wrong because the kingdoms split up and became individual rulers, even enemies. When in reality they're bound together, their fates are intertwined or some crap. You all feel when one of you dies, after all.”

“In all my history lessons I have never heard of the five rulers working together,” Ryan said.

“Maybe your history doesn't go far back enough. No one knows why there's no Wild royal family.”

“Or maybe your old lady is a nonsense kook from a two-bit circus,” Ryan snapped. All this talk of kings and crowns had him uneasy, wondering what Gavin was getting at – _why_ he was saying all this – reminding him again and again that there was a crown at stake and gods, he _shouldn't_ be letting his guard down.

“Oi,” Gavin protested, “We were a _quality_ circus. But anyway. Don't you think it will be odd once someone does win? No one has _ever_ had two gifts before. You don't reckon it might give one person too much power?”

“It will be unprecedented, yes, but it is what has to happen. No one else is qualified to rule.”

“But why _not_. There's no royal family, so technically no one has a right to the crown.”

“We cannot risk the crown falling into the hands of another vagabond,” Ryan snapped. “For too long the Wild has been untamed. If I were king, I could control it, especially since my lands are the closest.”

“So you reckon you deserve it the most?”

Ryan would've been suspicious, but the question didn't sound like a trap.

“Yes,” he replied, flatly. “I do. I am the one who would get the most use out of being able to control mobs and with my kingdom on the border it seems fitting that I should hold the crown.”

“But you would put it on yourself?” Gavin asked. “There isn't anyone else you'd trust to lead? 'cause, see, if Geoff wins, I know he's going to put it on. And I didn't tell him, because I wasn't sure if I was being completely stupid – I didn't grow up in court so I don't know all the rules – but it seemed to me that it'd be a lot more convenient if he gave it to Jack or Lindsay or someone else. Because otherwise he's gonna be even more stretched out trying to rule two different kingdoms.”

Ryan had no idea who Lindsay was, but he presumed it was another of Geoff's close friends. Another person he _trusted_ , enough that Gavin thought he'd give them such power.

“No,” he replied again. “There is no one I trust. And as I said – we all have the birthright. We deserve to rule.”

“Ah, but, you see, when I was talking to Michael the other day, he said that it's whoever puts on the crown _first_ who has the right to rule. And so far it's passed down through the royal families because the blood heirs jump in first as soon as their parents cark it, but there is no royal family for the Wild crown. There is no birthright.”

“Watch your tongue, fool,” Ryan snapped. This conversation was touching too much of a nerve. Talk of _birthrights_ and _parentage_ hit too close to secrets that he wasn't about to share. “A king and only a king will put on that crown.”

Gavin bit his lip, seeming to remember his place. He looked away, chastened.

“Apologies, my lord,” he said. “As I said – I don't know anything about these things. I suppose you're right. You all already know how to rule. You've been prepared since birth to inherit. That's better than giving such leadership to someone else, especially since as far as I know none of you have any siblings or relatives.”

Ryan nodded, a little mollified. He turned back to the scarf, but Gavin apparently didn't know when to shut up.

“I know Geoff doesn't trust you, but before I moved to the capital city and met him I never actually realised you were not popular in our kingdom. I hadn't heard all the scary stories about you. When you first inherited, everyone at the circus was well happy. They didn't like your Mum that much.”

“Excuse me?” Ryan's head shot up at the informality, and Gavin flinched.

“Sorry – I'm sorry. Her Majesty the Queen was not... popular among the circus folk, or any of the locals in the towns we passed through. She wouldn't let people into the Stoneworld, that's why. Tough border security, right? But also no trade or entertainment or anything. So when she passed away and you took over, there was a well big celebration and everyone seemed to think it was the dawn of a grand new era. Also we all got to eat an extra helping at dinner. It was top.”

The mention of his mother had Ryan's blood running cold. His immediate, visceral response was to throw Gavin out of the lab and never speak to him again – but he sat, frozen, fists clenching around the scarf, unable to move.

_Calm down. Calm down. He doesn't know anything. He is just a stupid commoner and he is speaking of gossips and rumour._

And a moment later, the full force of Gavin's words sank in, and he relaxed a little. It was common knowledge that his mother was unpopular, that she was the one who had turned the Ramseys' opinions against the Stone Kingdom's royal family. And it was... warming, almost, to hear that the people had been excited about his own inheritance. Whether they still were was another question – but he recalled Jack's words, yesterday. _You've brought the people into a significant upturn_.

Geoff might disagree, but Ryan had never been about _power_. It was about _control_ , and making sure no one else could ruin everything he'd painstakingly built up. Mentions of the past and the mistakes of himself and others only made him uneasy. He didn't like to hear people speaking of Queen Haywood. She was dead and gone. But it was funny to see how these things affected the millions of people who lived in the other kingdoms – the remote rural dwellers of the plains, the travelling circus folk.

“Sire?”

Gavin's voice was small, worried – but Ryan's anger had faded. He was too tired from the day's events to hold onto it here.

“Perhaps it might be wise if you stopped talking about how much everyone in your kingdom hated my mother,” he said drily. Gavin nodded frantically, mumbled another apology, and then appeared to feel so awkward that he jumped up off the stool and started wandering around the lab, looking at the various experiments to avoid Ryan's gaze.

Ryan left him to it, glad for the chance to collect himself. He continued his own work with a distracted mind, and had to fight not to jump when Gavin suddenly spoke up again.

“...King Ryan?”

“What is it now?” He turned and froze when he found Gavin standing in front of his potions cabinet – he'd gone so far as to open the door to look closely at them, and a bolt of alarm shot through Ryan. “I told you not to touch anything!”

“These are potions. I've only heard of witches making them. Strength, speed... bloody hell, is that an _invisibility_ potion?”

“Leave them,” Ryan said sharply, getting off the stool and marching over to him to slam the door shut. Gavin stared up at him, something thoughtful in his face.

“Today – you didn't use those,” he said, and Ryan froze. “In the tournament. You could have. No one would have known. You might've been able to beat Michael if you chugged some of these. But you didn't.”

“It would not be sporting,” Ryan said stiffly.

A slow smile spread across Gavin's face.

“That is very honourable of you, your majesty,” he said, and looked so awestruck that Ryan felt suddenly terribly embarrassed – and hated how much one little line of praise could affect him, just as it had when Jack spoke of his economic successes. His courtiers were a sullen lot, left over from his mother's time of rule, and never spoke much to him beyond consulting him on matters within their own sectors of the city. It was not often he got feedback at all, let alone positive feedback.

 _Stupid. You do not need their flattering. You have done well enough without it_.

“Potions are simple chemistry,” he said gruffly, turning away. “A child could do it with the right knowledge. All you need are the correct ingredients. Besides, they wear off after a time.”

“Still – no one else makes them or they'd be all over the place. You gotta figure out those ingredients to do it.”

“It is only impressive to someone who knows nothing,” Ryan grumbled. “The other projects here are more worthy of attention.”

“Can you tell me about them?” There was something tentatively curious in Gavin's voice.

Ryan's usual paranoia flared up – that Geoff actually had sent him, that this was some ploy to find out what he was working on down here.

But he saw the look on Gavin's face – almost nervous, like he was expecting Ryan to refuse – and remembered what he'd said before. _I'm not actually stupid_. It was unlikely that he ever got a chance to see all the things he'd read about in person, let alone discuss them with an actual scientist.

And it was rarely that Ryan ever got to _explain_ them to anyone – no one else came down here but Kerry, and Ryan was wary enough of the motives of everyone around him not to tell anyone about his experiments.

But it hardly mattered with Gavin. Even if he told Geoff, there was no redstone outside the Stoneworld, so there would be nothing they could do with the information.

“I suppose,” he replied, and Gavin gave another delighted smile. He started explaining the potions – how ground up redstone increased the duration of their effects – Gavin listened eagerly, and Ryan couldn't help the way his own voice got a little more excited as for the first time he actually got to _tell_ someone about his ideas; the technicalities of how he'd made them instead of just showing them the end product.

The redstone circuits were a bit more involved, but Gavin seemed to be following well enough – either that or he was just nodding to make it look like he understood.

“We have these in the mines,” Ryan said, lifting a piece of rail-track. “To transport minerals. But the outer villages are still so cut off that I'm working out how to develop a larger track system that could transport supplies out there. There is a lot of maths involved.”

“But ultimately, you'd have to do most of the work, even if other people build it,” Gavin pointed out. “Because you're the only person who can actually make redstone.”

Ryan nodded, and Gavin tilted his head.

“Do you like your gift?” he asked abruptly. “Do you ever wish you had someone else's?”

Ryan blinked. He'd never thought about it before. After a moment, he shook his head.

“All the gifts are suited to their territories,” he said – recited, almost, it was something he'd been told so many times growing up. Doubtless the other kings had too. “You have only seen this one city. You don't know what it's like in the rest of this place. At night, it can be pitch black and freezing cold in the canyons. The terrain is perilous – farther out there are chasms that humans or animals could fall down and break their neck in if they tried to travel in the dark. There is little fertile land and it's hard to grow anything outside of greenhouses – which, again, need the warmth provided by redstone to stop everything freezing at night.”

Gavin was listening intently and Ryan reached down and took a rock from one of the crates in the lab. He cradled it in his palms and called on his gift. His body flooded with a familiar warmth and the rock glowed crimson and hot to touch as its texture smoothed out and it took on a crystal-like appearance. Gavin let out a muted, awestruck noise.

Ryan held the redstone up to the light, watching it shimmer.

“Redstone is power. Energy. Heat. Light. The Stoneworld is unforgiving. To my people I am like a god.”

“A merciful god, I hope,” Gavin murmured, eyes still fixed on the stone, and Ryan jerked, snapping back into himself.

His people had feared his mother. And even if he'd tried to do right by them, the image he projected likely meant that many of them were wary of him too. He didn't care. But he realised abruptly that everything that'd happened here today already had Gavin looking at him a bit too closely.

“You forget you should be scared of me,” he snapped, and Gavin looked surprised, then upset at his sudden closing off.

“Why?” he asked, and Ryan scoffed.

“ _Why_. Because you've heard the stories.”

“Stories aren't always real.”

“But they always come from somewhere,” Ryan grunted. He threw the redstone into another crate and folded his arms as he said, darkly, “I've done terrible things.”

“Like what?” Gavin asked, eyes huge now. “Killed people?”

Ryan didn't answer, just looked at him intently, and Gavin bit his lip.

“What,” he continued, something almost challenging in it. “Executed them? Or killed them in battle?”

“No,” Ryan replied. He stepped towards Gavin, the usual need to intimate people, to push them away, rising up again. But Gavin just stared up at him, and the fear that had been there the first time they spoke was absent from his eyes, even as Ryan continued, “With my own hand. Not in battle.”

“You mean... like _murder_?” Gavin asked, and Ryan huffed.

“Some people might call it that.”

Gavin went silent, seeming to mull this over.

“Why?” he asked finally.

Ryan's heart was slamming, even if outwardly he showed no expression. _Shut up, just shut up. There is a reason no one knows, why you have not told anyone, why you don't want_ anyone _to find out_ -

But when there was blood on your conscience, blood no one else knew about, the guilty creeping urge to _confess_ was always there. He was usually good at pushing it away, all part of the facade – the callous, stone-hearted king. But down here in the lab it itched and burned.

“What do you think is a good reason to kill someone?” he asked instead, and Gavin bit his lip. When he didn't answer, Ryan took another step forward.

“For power?”

“No,” Gavin replied.

“For a crown?”

“No,” Gavin repeated – almost snapped, and Ryan could only nod, approvingly; there was honesty in the speed of his answer.

“Revenge?” he asked, and Gavin tilted his head.

“I... maybe, but it depends what for.”

“ _Is_ there any reason? Anything that makes taking someone's life in cold blood acceptable?”

Gavin looked away, and Ryan stared at him. He didn't know what he was looking for here, what redemption or justification, only that he had never spoken about this before, to _anyone_. But somehow, here and now, Gavin – circus boy, common boy, creeper boy, _witchy-boy_ – someone he'd never met before in his life, and after these few days might never see again – his opinion counted for something. His life, so opposite to Ryan's, might hold the answers that he somehow needed.

Finally Gavin looked up and met his eyes. His voice was clear and confident as he replied:

“To save other people.”

Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was exactly what he'd needed to hear. To have someone else _confirm_.

“Yes,” he said slowly, and opened his eyes again. “That is what I think too. What if it was someone who you loved?”

“Was there no other way?” Gavin's voice was tentative, soft. He had probably already heard too much, but Ryan couldn't stop himself, his usual control slipping, running through his fingers like water.

“Does it matter, once they're dead?”

"Did they love you? I think _that_ makes a difference.”

“And what if they didn't? Does that make it alright?” Ryan asked, and Gavin fell silent again, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

“I don't know,” he admitted finally, and sighed, trailing a finger along the bench beside him. “I'm just a fool. I've never killed someone. I don't think I could.”

“And what is your greatest sin, then?” Ryan asked, and felt a little tension ease from his chest, glad to shift the subject away from himself.

“Oh, gods. There's a question.” Gavin scratched at the back of his neck. “I've stolen things, but never from people who had less than me.”

“Theft,” Ryan scoffed. “That means little in the scheme of things. So you have never taken a life-”

“No!” Gavin cried, horrified. “And I never _would_. Not in cold blood.”

“Or betray your country? Another of the great crimes is treason. People with your upbringing get little protection from the government. But I suppose, now, you live in court. You are close to Geoff. You are loyal to him, then?”

“Yes,” Gavin said, fiercely. “Geoff is a good man. Why don't _you_ like him? As far as I know he's never done anything to you.”

“I don't like anyone,” Ryan replied. “You asked why Geoff wouldn't give the crown to someone else? I'm sure he's thought of it. But when it comes down to it, there are few men who would pass up power.” Gavin's face twisted, and Ryan's eyebrows rose as he continued. “Everyone here has their own agenda. And everyone here will step on someone else to achieve it.”

“Even you?” Gavin challenged.

“Even me,” Ryan replied darkly. “Do you really think Geoff would pick _you_ over the crown, if it came to it?”

Something strange passed across Gavin's face. He went back over to the bench and picked up the scarf again, stroking it for a moment before wrapping it around his neck. Ryan waited for him to answer, but he never did.

“Do you still think I'm spying for him?” he asked instead.

Ryan scoffed. “If you're a spy, you're a damn useless one. But if you're asking if I _trust_ you, the answer is no.” Even as he said it, it felt more for show. He didn't _trust_ Gavin so much as he'd dismissed him as any sort of threat. “Perhaps Geoff's plan was to send you in here all innocent-like so that I might befriend you. Perhaps he sent you here to try and soften my heart. In which case, it is also not working.”

“Perhaps I can't soften your heart, but I might be able to harden something else,” Gavin replied, eyebrows rising suggestively, and Ryan did a double take. Not much could shock him enough that he nearly choked on his own spit.

“ _Excuse me?”_

“Oh gods.” Gavin looked mortified, his face beet red. “I'm so sorry, your majesty. I didn't – I just – it comes out automatically. It's my job, you know, saying stupid things? With Geoff and Jack I joke like that – I'm so sorry. A thousand apologies. My tongue is not connected to my brain. It just goes rogue and starts saying all these things on its own.”

“ _Clearly,”_ Ryan replied, and as he got over it, he couldn't help but huff in amusement. It had been a long time since anyone dared flirt with him, let alone so _terribly_. The fool was blushing so hard that it was clear it had slipped out automatically; why, Ryan couldn't tell. Maybe he did say things like that to Geoff and Jack. With how strange the relationship was between the three of them, Ryan wouldn't be surprised.

“I'm very sorry,” Gavin repeated miserably, and Ryan didn't stop himself from laughing again.

Geoff hadn't sent Gavin down here.

Ryan already had him exactly figured out. Circus boy turned court fool through some series of events that had led Geoff to befriend him – he could see why the other man liked him; Gavin was a welcome reprieve from the officiousness of court, and smart enough to hold a good conversation with. Smart – but at the same time, Ryan thought him funnily naïve. He obviously trusted people far too easily and an odd, possessive part of Ryan was already resenting that Geoff may ruin him, may shatter that innocence by proving himself selfish, or power-hungry, or cruel. Even if he had been a good king so far, Ryan had seen how desperate Geoff was to win this, and desperate men made mistakes.

And perhaps, here and now as he stood smiling at Gavin, he'd already let his own guard down too much. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to regret it. For Gavin, maybe it was okay. Gavin was different – he had no political ties save his friendship with Geoff. His own agenda was so personal that it didn't involve anyone else. He didn't care about power, just his family. Gavin belonged to no one, not even Geoff, because hadn't he disobeyed him to be here with Ryan?

He wanted to believe it. He wanted to have this one nice thing.

He shook himself, turning back to the workbench and taking up a knife.

“I'll need a piece of your scarf,” he said. “To run tests on. Just a small one will do.”

A look of alarm shot across Gavin's face.

“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head furiously. “I know how this goes! You take one little piece, then you need another, and another, and soon I won't have a scarf any more, I'll just have a handkerchief!”

“I need these tests to confirm what it is, and if so, to work out exactly what creepers are made of and what their weaknesses are,” Ryan said patiently. “We can't progress without it.”

 _We_. It had slipped out. Gavin didn't seem to notice.

“Can I think about it? I just... I don't want to start cutting it up. It's important to me. You know?” His voice had gone quieter, hands clutching the scarf protectively.

“Okay,” Ryan replied softly, and Gavin looked a bit surprised, then smiled again.

“May I be dismissed, then, my lord?”

Ryan nodded, and Gavin bowed before exiting the lab. When the door shut behind him it felt like a spell had broken; everything seemed emptier and colder down here and Ryan realised, abruptly, exactly what had just happened. How he'd _let someone in –_ something he'd always been so careful not to do – barely even thinking about it.

 _You don't know him, you don't know what he wants_ , he thought, frantically-

Only to stop himself. To think about it logically.

Gavin was simple. He'd observed the man enough to see that. He was clever, but not in the way that Ryan was clever. An open book. Too brash with his words sometimes.

There was no way someone like him would be able to lie convincingly, to completely fool Ryan.

 _You know enough,_ he thought. _He wants his parents. He wants to know where he came from. He wants to learn from you about science. And you believe that. You believe him_.

 

* * *

 

There was a day's break between the sword fighting and the chess competition, as the visiting kings were still tired from travel and that plus the exhaustion of the duels would make it harder for them to perform with a clear mind in the chess.

It was late morning as Michael sat in his chambers with Ray, a chessboard between them, practicing. They hadn't seen anyone else all morning; breakfast was brought to their rooms, and Michael presumed that Ryan still had a lot to deal with running his own kingdom. Either way, he did not seem the sort to bother entertaining his guests while they were here.

“You sure you want to move that there?” Ray asked, as Michael lifted his knight and prepared to knock out one of Ray's rooks.

“...I was until you said that,” he replied, and narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you just trying to put me off taking your piece?”

“No, I'm trying to fucking coach you, that's what you're _here_ for,” Ray laughed. “But I don't doubt that if Ryan gets wind you're inexperienced, he'll play those sorts of mind games with you.”

“Fucking hell.” Michael put his knight back and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face with a groan. “This whole thing's giving me a damn headache. Move here, don't move here, don't capture that piece even when you can...”

“That's the thing about chess,” Ray replied. Michael looked up and pulled a face at how amused the other man seemed; eyes crinkled, a barely restrained smile on his face. “You can't just plough forward destroying everything in your path like you usually do. You need strategy. To think ahead. Sometimes, to sacrifice your own pieces for the end goal.”

Michael huffed. As far as he was concerned, he'd used up all his strategy and forward-thinking for the next ten years simply coming up with the plan to marry Ray.

“Well, I'm fucked tomorrow,” he declared, knocking over his own king. “I'm just going to lose.”

“Don't say that.” Ray set the piece upright again. “You might get lucky.”

“Oh, so _now_ you're suggesting I leave things in the hands of fate,” Michael teased, and Ray huffed out a laugh.

“Not fate,” he replied. “Just Geoff being hungover, or Ryan making a mistake.”

Michael pulled a face. He moved a pawn forward and Ray laughed as he slid his bishop through the spot it'd just occupied, leaving it in a diagonal line to Michael's king.

“Check,” he said smugly, and Michael pounded a fist on the table.

“ _Damn it_.”

“You gotta check these things before you move,” Ray chided, and Michael just sighed.

“Too much to focus on. I'm not bothered. You can just win this round for us.”

Ray laughed, disbelieving, and Michael leaned forward.

“I mean it. You can do it.”

“You realise that _one_ of us has to win overall, right? We can't just combine the best of our scores. Come on, let's try again.”

He began to reset the board, but Michael reached out and knocked over every piece as soon as he set it up again. Ray scowled, but when he looked up and saw Michael grinning at him he started laughing as well.

“Mature, Michael.”

“Look at him. Teacher Ray. How about _I_ teach _you_ something now? I can teach you to fight!”

“Bit late for that. The sword fighting's already over.”

“Come on, let me feel like the smart one for once,” Michael said. He exaggerated his whining tone, but when he looked up Ray was frowning slightly.

“You _are_ smart,” he insisted – in that funny, earnest way he had sometimes - and Michael could only smile fondly at him. He stood up and stretched, and after a moment Ray did too.

“Okay,” Ray said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Go on. Teach me something. Teach me how to throw a punch,” he suggested, “So if it ends up in a tie and a fist-fighting match gets added I can hold my own.”

“I _hope_ that happens,” Michael said. “I'll destroy the other two!”

Ray rolled his eyes, and stood aside as Michael pushed the table and chairs out of the way. They fooled around for a bit, shadowboxing, Ray deliberately flailing wildly all over the place while Michael laughed at him. But soon enough they got a bit more serious, Michael showing Ray how to properly swing, holding up one of the bolsters from the bed for him to practice on.

“Your form's wrong,” Michael said finally. “When you throw the punch your arm should be level with your shoulder.”

“Okay,” Ray said, and did it completely wrong again. Michael whacked him with the bolster and went up behind him.

“Like this,” he said, and reached around him to take hold of his wrist, manoeuvring him into the correct position. As he put his hand over Ray's, pressing his fingers into a fist again, the other man froze, going funnily still against him. Pressed up against his back like he was, Michael could feel how tense he'd gone, the pulse in Ray's wrist pounding under his fingers.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, and felt Ray shiver. Frowning, he let go of him and started to step back, but Ray turned to face him so quickly that it made Michael freeze. Their faces were very close together, Ray's dark eyes staring into his with an odd intensity, and Michael didn't know what to think.

“I'm fine,” Ray replied – his voice was so soft it was nearly a whisper, and he reached up and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. It seemed like he was steadying himself, so Michael didn't move – until Ray suddenly leaned in, their lips brushing together-

It came automatically to kiss back, after already having made out half a dozen times over the last few days. At dinner, in the corner of the parlour yesterday when they noticed Ryan watching, after the duels – there was starting to be something familiar to the way Ray fitted against him, the warmth of his hands, the funny, fresh energy that he seemed to emanate, a product of his gift-

But as they broke apart and the silence of the room flooded back in, he realised what was different. They were alone.

“There's no one else here,” he said, puzzled – Ray had been standing, breathing heavily, one hand still clutching Michael's shoulder. “No one's watching – why'd you do that?”

Ray's eyes widened. Something almost alarmed flickered across his face. When he grinned it was forced; Michael knew him well enough to tell.

“You realise we're gonna be married,” he replied, quickly. “Might as well get used to it because these are the only kisses we'll get from now on. Unless you...”

He trailed off and Michael wasn't sure where he'd been going with that. He didn’t know what to say and as he stared at Ray in silence, the other man fidgeted uncomfortably before pulling away.

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “Sorry. I made things awkward.”

Before Michael could reply, he walked out of the room, so quickly that he bumped into the table as he left. Michael stared after him, unsure exactly what'd just happened-

Knowing only that he'd clearly upset Ray, and had no idea why.

It wasn't like he _minded_ the kissing. It wasn't even that awkward. Ray was his best friend and they'd known each other for so long that everything was comfortable with him.

But he was realising, suddenly, that maybe he hadn't thought this whole thing through very well.

_Unless you... what?_

_Unless you or I find someone else and decide to have a relationship with them on the side? Gods, surely_ that's _not what he meant_.

His whole life he'd never found anyone he liked romantically. The whole idea of marriage he'd scoffed at. It was too much trouble that he wasn't interested in – unless it was someone who he got along with as easily as Ray. And he'd thought this whole plan so very _clever_ ; it benefited both of them and if he had to spend a whole lot of time with someone, of _course_ he'd choose Ray.

He'd never thought of it as an actual _relationship_. He'd thought that was obvious.

 _But what if I find someone else... what if Ray does... we both just never thought of that, I guess. After all, I've never seen_ him _show an interest in anyone, either. And he'd tell me if he had._

It was just – easy, with Ray. Everything was. He'd thought this would be easy too. But maybe they hadn't talked about it in all that much depth – maybe they hadn't worked out where the boundaries were, or where this left them.

Maybe they should have.

Because this wasn't just like signing a treaty, or forging an alliance. This was something else entirely and Michael realised with a sinking feeling that he'd started something way bigger than he'd anticipated.

Gods above, why the fuck did he choose _marriage_? He could have just fucking signed a treaty with Ray in front of Ryan and it'd have had the same damn effect.

And why the fuck did Ray _agree_? Michael came up with a lot of stupid plans but Ray, Ray was smart, the thoughtful one, the one who thought these things through.

 _Fucking hell_ , was all Michael could think, as he sat down on his bed and rubbed his hands over his face.

The last person he'd ever thought things would get complicated with was Ray. But now – at this crucial time – it seemed there was a hell of a lot more they had to sort out between them than he'd realised.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tatematte drew this [super cute fanart](http://whalehuntingboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/140769424289/tatematte-ive-always-really-loved-how) of Geoff and Gavin. Thank you so much, it is fab <3


	5. Chapter 5

Michael brooded in his room for a while, played a terrible game of chess against himself, hit some dummies in the training yard, and then got bored and went for a walk to clear his head.

Ray was in his chambers and he'd stood outside his door for ten minutes earlier before walking away. Michael had never been one to pull punches or feel awkward, but he simply didn't know what to _do_ here. He and Ray had never fought before, bar the occasional childhood bickering. This wasn't even a _fight_ , really. He just had no idea what was going on between them.

He wandered out towards the barracks, near the arena where yesterday's tournament had taken place. Many of the visiting soldiers were sitting around, talking, drinking or sparring together. The Alpine and desert delegations seemed to be getting along swimmingly, but he could also see a group of his women talking to some of Geoff's soldiers.

A flash of green caught his eye, and he looked over to see Gavin standing down in the sandy amphitheatre with the same soldier he'd been sitting with during the tournament, and a few other men. He appeared to be trying to teach his friend to do a handstand. It was not going very well.

Michael was headed over before he even quite realised what he was doing. Something about Gavin drew him closer like a moth to a flame; every time he saw him with Geoff he was hit with an odd longing to be friends with him as well, to get a piece of that sunlight.

“Don't let go! Don't let go!” the soldier was wailing, as Gavin held his legs upright.

“You have to balance! Move your hands farther apart, idiot. This is your agility training. It will save your life in battle one day.”

“I'm not going to do a fucking handstand in the middle of battle – _B_! Don't let go of me – Gav, don't-”

Giggling hysterically, Gavin let go him and stepped back. The soldier balanced precariously for a moment before slowly flopping backwards, managing in his flailing to, momentarily, nearly do the splits mid-air. The other soldiers jeered at him, and Gavin was laughing so hard that he was doubled over and practically convulsing. Michael could hear him as he approached; squeaking and croaking away.

The soldier scrambled to his feet, covered in sandy dust, just in time to see Michael approach. He stood to attention immediately, everyone else noticing and following suit.

“Your majesty,” he said, and Michael waved a hand.

“At ease,” he said, and they all relaxed, though they still looked cautious. Gavin, on the other hand, waved cheerily.

“King Michael has come to demonstrate a handstand for us,” he announced, and Michael barked out a laugh.

“In your _dreams_ I'm going to try a fucking handstand.”

“If I came up with the games I would've had a gymnastic competition. Whoever can handstand the longest, do the most backflips in a row, and cross a tightrope wins,” Gavin announced, nimbly flipping forward onto his own hands.

“Thank the gods you didn't come up with the games then,” Michael laughed, and then reached out and shoved Gavin over, sending him sprawling into the dirt. He let out an indignant squawk as he fell and his soldier friend burst out laughing, the others following suit.

“That's what you get for being a showoff, B,” the man said.

“Michael, that's my friend Dan,” Gavin announced, not moving from where he was lying on the ground. “He's a right prick.”

Michael nodded to Dan, who nodded back, still looking quite wary as he reached down and grabbed Gavin by the back of his scarf, hauling him upright like a kitten by the scruff of its neck.

“Did you need something, your majesty?” he asked.

“Just going for a walk,” Michael said, and Gavin's eyes lit up.

“Want some company?”

Michael was glad he'd offered. As royalty he could demand whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but he'd never been comfortable with it. It was probably not fitting of a king to be unsure about asking some commoner to accompany him somewhere, but there was something about Gavin that put Michael in the position of being the one who had to _want_ him. He just seemed to get along with everybody – the soldiers, Geoff, even _Ryan_ had been sitting with him during the games. It made Michael feel too much like he was trying to get the attention of someone popular, when usually it was the reverse – everyone in his kingdom vying for his eye.

“Sure,” he replied, casually, and Gavin sprang eagerly to his side, waving goodbye to his friend as they walked off. Michael wasn't quite sure where they were going – they headed out towards the royal gardens, but as soon as they were out of sight of anyone Gavin stopped walking and turned to Michael with an infectious grin.

“Want to go on an adventure?”

“What?”

“An _adventure_ , Michael, a lovely little adventure.” His eyes were sparkling wickedly and Michael couldn't look away from him.

“What sort of adventure?”

“You never _know_ what sort of adventure, Michael. You just go out and hope you find one. Come on! Let's look around the city.”

“You want to leave the fortress?” Somehow that hadn't occurred to him as a possibility. He'd been so focused on the games that leaving hadn't even crossed his mind.

“Of course, Michael! Why not, while we're here? I want to see the city. You realise King Ryan's not the boss of you, right? You're allowed to leave. We're not prisoners. Come _on._ ”

He started towards the entrance, but Michael hesitated. Ray would have no idea where he'd gone – and he really should be resting up, practicing chess, preparing for the archery as well – but Gavin was beckoning him and smiling so brightly, like some forest sprite about to lead him down a wayward path, impossible to resist.

_Fuck it_ , he thought, and followed after him, relishing Gavin's delighted laugh.

 

* * *

 

The Stoneworld capital was hugely different from Michael's alps. There were no plants anywhere around the place – just dusty roads and huge stone buildings. Not all were as barren and bare as Ryan's fortress, at least – they were walking through the middle district and here many of the houses had intricately carved, beautiful designs, quite old buildings that had obviously withstood the elements for many years.

Michael had taken off his bear cloak so no one could recognise him, and it was freeing to wander anonymously in a foreign city. It was quite a sunny day out, and the area they were in let the light in freely. There were other places they'd passed by that were completely cast in the shadow of either the fortress or the enormous rocks that sprang up at random outside the city walls, part of the uneven, jagged terrain of the Stoneworld. Suburbs dark as night that were lit up with an eerie redstone glow. They sent a chill down Michael's spine.

As they walked, sightseeing and exploring, Gavin had told him excitedly all about his scarf and why he and Ryan were convinced it was creeper skin. Michael was surprised – and a bit concerned – by how helpful Ryan was being. It seemed completely uncharacteristic based on what he'd heard about the other king, and Gavin wasn't letting much slip about what Ryan had said to him beyond the scientific.

“Be careful,” he cut in finally. “Ryan might be manipulating you for his own agenda.”

Gavin's face turned oddly serious.

“I know,” he replied. “If he's trying to use me to get information about Geoff or anything, it won't work. I'm very careful. I know I don't look it – but I am.”

“Okay,” Michael replied, and Gavin smiled and changed the subject.

They continued on, talking about other things – stupid things. Their adventures at home, Gavin's upbringing, how strange it was here. It felt like Michael had known him forever – he was different to Ray, easy to tease but taking it all in stride, constantly coming up with the most ridiculous things that had Michael in fits. He didn't have the burden of royalty that both Ray and Michael did, and it was such a different perspective that it was refreshing.

It was _easy_ , above all. The same way it was easy with Ray. Michael was quickly lost in the novelty of being able to walk around without people recognising him, of having a friend by his side to chat with. He didn't realise until his cheeks started to hurt that he hadn't stopped smiling once.

“I can't imagine living here,” he said, when they stopped in another housing district. It was in a quieter area, the streets empty and silent around them. “No plants. No life. It feels like being constantly in a fucking tomb. It's so different to the alps.”

“What's it like?” Gavin asked, turning to him. “Your home.”

“Our capital is magnificent,” Michael replied, proudly. “An ancient city, built on the side of the mountain. Wherever you are there's an incredible view of the landscape – the snow on the mountains, the valleys below. Everyone lives in enormous mansions and towers and in the winter it's all lit up with firelight and fur. Everything's cosy and warm even when it snows outside. It's colourful, too – the mountain flowers are bright and people paint their roofs. You should visit one day,” he added.

“Noooo,” Gavin replied immediately, “It's scary. You told me it was dangerous and hard to survive there.”

Michael barked out a laugh.

“The capital is pretty safe. But I'll protect you if you come visit,” he added, and slung an arm around Gavin's shoulders without really thinking about it, tugging him closer fondly.

Gavin laughed, leaning into him as Michael jostled him.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “I'd like to travel more.”

“If Geoff can spare you,” Michael added. He said it teasingly but in truth he was fishing to know more about their relationship; the way they looked at each other still had him wondering. Jack too.

Gavin just smiled and didn't say more. He pulled away from Michael and pointed towards a courtyard attached to one of the houses.

“Let's go in here,” he said.

“That's private property, Gavin. That's someone's house.”

“I want to see, though.” He bounded closer and peered up over the wall. “Oh my, Michael, there's a cat in there. I'm going to go and visit it.”

“We're guests here, Gavin, we can't trespass. That's breaking the law.”

“You're the king. You _make_ the laws.”

“Not in this kingdom, idiot!” Michael cried, but Gavin was already swinging himself nimbly over the wall and vanishing on the other side. Michael rolled his eyes, but some reckless abandon took him over as well, and he clambered after him.

“You can't be in here. I could have you fucking arrested for this,” he threatened.

Gavin was too busy squatting in the middle of some random person's courtyard trying to coax their cat out from under a cart in the corner. Michael glanced up at the windows of the house, but all was dark and silent – the occupants must be out.

“Kitty, kitty, come out. Michael, do you have food, Michael?”

“No, I don't fucking carry food around,” Michael said, but couldn't help laughing. He tugged at Gavin's hood. “Come _on_ , let's get out of here.”

Gavin sighed, getting to his feet.

“Does anyone even live here? That window is so dirty,” he said, pulling a face - and then crossing to the window and drawing a smiley face in the grime. “I shall leave a lovely little message for them!”

“You're the stupidest person I've ever met,” Michael said in disbelief. “You broke into someone's courtyard and now you're leaving _evidence_.”

“They won't know it was me.” He drew a love heart, then a penis, and Michael burst out laughing.

“That's your idea of a lovely little message?”

“Dicks are lovely,” Gavin said, proudly. And then, deadpan, “Yum.”

Michael laughed so hard he nearly choked, collapsing into a wheezing fit. Gavin started giggling as well, hysterically. By the time Michael had recovered himself, it was to look up to find Gavin drawing a crown and then mountains on the window.

“Gavin, _no_!” he yelled, leaping forward and bumping Gavin out of the way to rub it out. “They'll think it was my men!”

Gavin was just cackling away to himself. Michael wiped out everything on the window and when his hand came away caked with dust and grime, he advanced on Gavin, who backed away as Michael chased him with it, eventually seizing him and wiping it on his face as he screeched and spluttered. In the midst of his flailing he suddenly dropped to the ground, one hand still fisted in Michael's shirt trying to hold him back, and accidentally pulled Michael down on top of him.

“Fuck,” Michael hissed as he caught himself just above Gavin. The other man gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and for a moment they stared at each other – chests pressed together, faces inches apart, Gavin's eyes huge and wide and so close Michael could see every different colour in them. He swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry, too acutely aware of everywhere their bodies were touching.

“Sorry,” Gavin stuttered out after a second of awkward staring. “I didn't mean to knock you over.”

“What? I was the one tussling with you-”

“You're a king.” Gavin said it almost sharply, and Michael blinked. For these last few hours, he'd nearly forgotten the difference in status. But he huffed now, sitting up off Gavin.

“Yeah, well, you cushioned the royal body from hitting the ground,” he pointed out. Then, “There's shit on your face.”

“You _put_ it there,” Gavin said, then screeched wildly when Michael licked his hand and scrubbed the smudge of grime off his cheek. “No! No, that's gross-”

“Excuse you, you're being blessed by the royal saliva _-_ ”

“Stop yelling, you scared the cat away,” Gavin said, rolling his head over to look under the cart. The cat was indeed gone. “That's sad, Michael, I wanted to pat it. I want a pet cat. Do you have a pet bear?”

“No,” Michael replied, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and hauled Gavin up too.

“Have you named the bear that you wear all the time? Because you should. And if not, can I name it?”

Michael laughed again as he steered Gavin out of the courtyard. “Why the fuck would I _name the bear_? You're an idiot. Everything you say is just stupid.”

“You keep saying that, Michael, why are you so mean,” Gavin complained, though his lips were twitching.

“Because it's _true_ ,” Michael said, not quite defensively. “You're a fucking idiot.”

Gavin pouted, but then started giggling again.

“You smile every time you say it,” he pointed out, and Michael just shook his head, unable to even deny it. And maybe it was a bit of a problem. Maybe his whole life, his ruthless upbringing, distant father and the military being his main teacher had meant that he had never been quite _sure_ how to show affection.

It was different with Ray. They understood each other and Michael always knew how to act around him – it was comfortable, familiar. But everyone else he was close to was a soldier – and Gavin was different, so different, pointedly not part of that macho clique, and if Michael had been throwing barbs at him all day, making fun of his nose and his accent and his questions, it was only because he had no idea how to express just how much he _liked_ him except with teasing jabs offset by bright smiles.

And every time he did – it send a warm surge through his chest, the excited sunshine of a child's crush.

“I'm smiling because I'm laughing at you,” he said, and Gavin just giggled, undaunted as always.

 

* * *

 

“There's our adventure,” Gavin announced, shortly after.

They're walked so far they'd reached the enormous stone wall that surrounded the entire city. It was so dark in its shadow that it felt like night, lit up only at intervals by redstone torches. At the very top Michael could see the tiny figures of guards patrolling.

“What? There's no fucking way we can climb that thing,” Michael replied.

“Guard tower, Michael. There's one right here. Come on!”

Gavin was running off before Michael could stop him, and he followed, something nervous thrumming in his chest. He felt like he was a child with Ray again, sneaking about in the desert castle, in places that were off-limits to them, stifling giggles and trying to spy on the nobles.

Gavin was surprisingly fast, and something about the texture of his scarf made him blend in against the shadows. Michael was hard pressed to keep up with him as he darted over to the guard tower, slipped in, and vanished up the stairs before anyone could see him.

This section of the wall was less heavily guarded, and they got up without running into anyone. It seemed to take forever to climb the stairs, a dizzying spiral stretching up and up. Gavin was panting by the time they reached the top; even Michael breathing a bit heavily-

But when they emerged onto the top of the wall, all tiredness faded away.

It was late afternoon by now, a low, golden sun casting a warm glow across the kingdom. Stretching out beyond this part of the wall was a flat expanse of stone ground-

And beyond that, the Wild.

It made Michael turn cold to look at it. From this far away it looked like little more than a tangled dark mess, occasionally rising up into hills and peaks. But there was something about it that made him feel oddly off-balance, like staring into the black depths of the ocean, or the edge of some bottomless precipice. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise and an odd, funny tingling in his stomach.

“That's the Wild,” Gavin breathed.

Michael shivered. He wrenched his gaze away and felt instantly more grounded. Like he'd woken from a dream.

"I don't like to look at it,” he said.

“I do,” Gavin murmured. In fact, he couldn't look away, was standing transfixed. Michael's eyes fell to his scarf and he bit his lip. If it was creeper skin, then Gavin was probably wondering if his parents might have been somewhere in there at one point.

He didn't like how distant Gavin's gaze was, and reached out, touching his arm. Gavin jerked and turned towards him, eyes focusing again.

“How many people do you think are in there right now?” he asked.

“Not fucking many,” Michael replied. “Who in their right mind would want to be _there_? It's a deathtrap.”

“There have to be some, though,” Gavin replied, shrugging. “Someone's always been in there to pick up the crown the last few times the Wild king died.”

“Bad people,” Michael muttered. “Thieves. Murderers. Criminals trying to escape justice.”

Gavin hummed. Michael could see him still looking at the other kingdom from the corner of his eye.

“Runaways,” Gavin added softly. “Witches. People who need to hide, or have nowhere else. The Wild is where the lost go.”

Michael didn't know what to say. A funny, still silence hung between them for a moment, before Gavin shook himself and shot Michael another grin.

“I've never seen a mob before,” he declared. “Are you frightened of them?”

“I'm not frightened of anything,” Michael replied, and Gavin scoffed.

“Everyone's scared of something. They tell children stories about monsters in every kingdom. Skeletons at your window in the night. Endermen that follow those who have terrible, unconfessed sins. Or that people will come back as zombies if you don't bless the bodies after they die. You might see one for the first time if you win and have to go in there to get the crown.”

“Maybe,” Michael replied. The thought made him uneasy. “Let me fucking win it first though.”

“If you do win,” Gavin continued, “Once you have control of the mobs, you should start a circus! Dancing skeletons. Creeper clowns. Endermen walking tightropes on their long legs.”

“Fucking _stupid_ ,” Michael replied, and Gavin tittered.

“You're being mean again.”

“No one's gonna make a fucking circus. Whoever wins that crown has an army at their disposal.”

“An army,” Gavin scoffed. “Of course you would. The Soldier King.”

Michael just shrugged, smiling, and Gavin tilted his head.

“The Rose King,” he added, thoughtfully. “The Scientist King.”

“Mad King,” Michael corrected.

Gavin hummed again. “What's Geoff?”

“Drunk King,” Michael said immediately, and thrilled at Gavin's delighted laugh. “ _Old_ King.”

“If I was king, what would I be?” Gavin asked.

The very thought of Gavin ruling _anything_ made Michael crack up.

"The Fool King,” he replied immediately, and Gavin pouted.

“Awww, I don't like that. The _Moon King_ ,” he declared.

“ _What_.”

“I'm going to conquer the moon and get the crown that's up there. You wait and see.”

“You're ridiculous,” Michael managed, between breathless laughter. “That's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”

Gavin smiled widely.

“Actually, the Fool King does have something of a ring to it,” he mused, and Michael shook his head.

“That's dumb, and you're never going to be king,” he informed him.

“Way to crush my dreams, Michael.”

“Would you want to be?” Michael asked, and felt his laughter drain away, suddenly, the weight of the Wild beyond tugging at him, the crown he _needed_ to win. “To have all that power, that responsibility, too... it's not all fun and games.”

Gavin was silent a moment, fiddling with the ends of his scarf.

“Nah,” he declared, finally. “I'm not interested in power at all. And I'm certainly not responsible. But the moon has no subjects. It'd just be me and my gift. Whatever the Moon gift is. I'm still working that part out.”

“The Wild has no subjects either,” Michael pointed out. “Except said thieves and murderers. You really aren't interested in power?” he added. “Most people are, even if they won't admit it.”

Gavin bit his lip. He looked at the Wild again too and when he spoke his voice was quiet, thick.

“All I want is to find out about my family.”

Michael felt a surge of sympathy so intense it nearly hurt. He had no idea what to say, what comfort to offer – and finally, awkwardly, reached out and punched Gavin in the arm.

“Ow!” Gavin cried, rubbing his shoulder. “Michael, why?”

“Cheer up,” Michael said, and Gavin stared at him.

“Dear gods. You really are a soldier, aren't you. You're worse than Dan. At least he buys me drinks instead of bloody beating me up.”

“Oh, grow up, it wasn't even that hard.”

“You're so _mean_ ,” Gavin said, but he was smiling again at least, “Are you like this with Ray?”

The mention of Ray made Michael's smile fade immediately, remembering their previous upset.

“What does that mean?” he demanded, and Gavin tilted his head, taken aback by his sudden harshness.

“You don't go around thumping him or calling him stupid, right? Then again he is your...” He trailed off, seeming unsure, and Michael felt suddenly flustered and didn't know why.

It was stupid. He knew what Ray was. _Friend. Best friend._

_Fiancé._

_Lover?_ That wasn't true. But he could tell it was what Gavin was implying. And he couldn't help thinking, now, of how Ray had kissed him – couldn't help but think of actually being _together_. They had been friends for so long that at some level it felt preposterous to think of it being anything deeper.

But he'd gone and asked Ray to marry him, hadn't he? Now he was _forced_ to think about it, about what that meant for them.

And he liked Gavin. He liked Gavin a lot, probably _too_ much for the brief amount of time he'd met him. It was almost frightening how intensely he wanted to be around the other man, to impress him, to make him smile.

But he liked Ray too, even if he showed it differently – he'd tease him, sure, but he was gentler, more familiar.

“Whatever,” was his final, eloquent reply, before deciding that changing the topic and trying not to think about it was the most suitable course of action. “Anyway. You'll never be king – you could never get a crown, even if you were in the running. You couldn't win all these games and you couldn't get through the Wild to get to it.”

“I know,” Gavin replied cheerfully. “All I'm good at are tricks!”

He went right up to the low wall that served as a barrier to stop people falling off the edge of the walkway, climbed up to straddle it, and then to Michael's horror began to stand up.

“I'm going to walk on my hands along this wall,” he declared.

“You are absolutely fucking not,” Michael cried, hurrying forward and grabbing his wrist. “Fucking _hell_ , Gavin, if you fall you'll die.”

“But that's the adventure, Michael,” Gavin protested. “I came all the way to the Stoneworld and walked upside down on the wall next to the Wild.”

“The adventure is that King Michael saved your fucking life by not letting you, that's what.” He dragged Gavin towards him and was relieved when the fool was standing solidly next to him again. Gavin stared at him and then laughed, eyes crinkling into a big smile. Michael realised he was still holding his wrist and let go quickly, cheeks hot.

“That was a grand adventure,” Gavin said, and Michael rolled his eyes.

“Idiot. Come on, let's go back.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached the fortress again the sun had sunk away. It was as dark in the Stoneworld as it had been the day they first arrived, and though Gavin was still chattering away, there was something depressive about the atmosphere. The shadows. The chill in the air. It made Michael feel tired and melancholic, unable to get his mind off Ray and his own worry about tomorrow's competition.

The training yards were quiet and empty, especially compared to how full of noise and life they'd been when Michael walked in there this morning. As they headed past them to get back to the fortress the lone clink of metal striking metal rang out, accompanied by annoyed grunts. Gavin stopped walking and Michael turned to see what he was looking at.

Standing alone in the middle of one of the fields was Geoff, furiously beating at an armoured training dummy. There was an arrow sticking out of its shoulder, and several more stuck in the dirt around it that had obviously completely missed their target.

Michael got angry easily, and when he did he had been known to break or destroy things – his gift made it easier – but even he stopped still at the vicious fury in Geoff's movements.

_Someone has some things to work out_ , was all he could think.

“I'm guessing he's not happy about losing to me yesterday,” he began, turning to Gavin.

“No,” Gavin murmured, but his eyes were fixed on Geoff, and Michael's grin faltered.

There was something helpless in Gavin's face, something almost longing. It was obvious he was worried – wanted to comfort his friend – but there was something deeper than that. Something so pained at seeing Geoff upset that it obviously went beyond brotherly concern.

“You and Geoff...”

Michael trailed off when Gavin turned back to him, something very cautious in his face – and that told Michael all he needed to know, really. People only got careful when they had something to hide.

And Michael had never pulled punches.

“You love him,” he said – Gavin's mouth dropped open at his bluntness, ready to protest, and Michael added, “Or you might – and he might love you – there's something going on there, isn't there?”

“I don't know what you mean, your majesty,” Gavin said flatly, and it was Michael who flinched this time.

“Hey. Don't be like that. I don't know how the fuck you manage to make _your majesty_ sound like an insult.” He huffed in mock-annoyance and was glad when Gavin's lips twitched. “Look, I'm just calling it like I see it. It's obvious to anyone who looks that you two are close.”

“Of course we're close,” Gavin said – and then sighed, turning away. “It doesn't matter what there is between us. I'm sure it's obvious to anyone who looks that _Jack_ and Geoff are closer. If Geoff loves anybody, it's him.”

“Jack's close to you too,” Michael murmured, and Gavin's face grew even more pained.

“It's not the time to worry about things like that,” he replied. “The plains need to win the games. _I_ need Geoff to win the games, so he can take me into the Wild to investigate my parents.”

Somehow it hadn't occurred to Michael until this point that if Gavin was hoping that Geoff would win, he must also be hoping, by extension, that Michael would _lose_. He couldn't bring himself to be hurt; it was part and parcel of the competition. But he did reach out and touch Gavin's wrist.

“Hey – if I win and become the Wild king, you can come visit whenever. And I'll make sure I get everything under control so you can look for whatever you need to in there.”

Gavin looked so startled that it nearly hurt. After a moment he smiled – genuine, gentle, unlike his usual crooked grin.

“Thank you Michael,” he said, and Michael beamed at him. Everything in his chest felt warm and loose and fluid just to see Gavin staring at him with such affection-

Only for a moment later, as they walked on, Gavin to look back over his shoulder at Geoff. Even if he still looked sad, there was something else under it. Something soft and affectionate and-

_Familiar-_

Michael's stomach dropped. It was the same look he kept seeing on Ray's face – he'd know it anywhere, that curious combination of sweet and sad that'd had him close to worried about his friend whenever he saw it.

He didn't quite know what to think of that – couldn't put the pieces together, couldn't think of Ray giving any other indications what might be wrong, why things had gotten abruptly so awkward this morning-

But it was quickly becoming clear that things were about to get even _more_ fucking complicated than he had thought.

 

* * *

 

Ryan strode out of the great hall, tense and irritated. He had just gotten out of a long and frustrating meeting with his counsellors. Even if Ryan had performed well in the sword fighting, and expected to do well in chess, they were already demanding to know how they would betray the others and take the crown anyway if he didn't win.

Ryan had no plans to betray anybody. He planned to win, first and foremost, and was almost certain he would.

And if he didn't? It wouldn't matter. He had a plan to keep his kingdom safe no matter what happened. He just had to get his experiment working first.

The mob army provided by the Wild's gift would make the winner a threat because they would no longer need to risk human lives in battle, not to mention mobs were harder to kill. But Ryan had more up his sleeve than any of the other kings – or his own counsellors – could even imagine.

He just wasn't ready to reveal it yet.

Needing fresh air, he headed out into a small courtyard garden near the throne room, only to freeze when he realised Ray was already in there. The other man looked up and stiffened, as tense as Ryan was.

For a moment they stared at each other. Ryan was less composed than he'd've liked, still fuming from the meeting, but he recovered quickly and tilted his head, staring impassively at Ray as he walked over.

“I'm sure our botany pales in comparison to yours,” he said.

Ray blinked a few times, gathering himself, before turning back to the plants.

“They're interesting,” he said, and crouched, brushing a finger over the leaves. They were not very beautiful – short, stubby plants with thick hard leaves, similar to succulents. Few things grew natively in the Stoneworld because there was little actual soil. “They remind me of Michael. Tough.”

“They have to be,” Ryan replied. “Not much survives in the Stoneworld.”

“I can fix that,” Ray pointed out. “At least, just in this garden.”

“Be my guest,” Ryan replied smoothly. Truth be told, he was intrigued; he had seen Geoff's spectre appear to him through the Sight when they were planning the games, and Michael's strength in the arena, but he had yet to witness Ray's gift first-hand.

Ray held his hands out over a sparser patch of the garden bed. Ryan saw him close his eyes and his whole body seem to relax somehow. As he watched the colour of the earth shifted, the gravelly soil growing darker, richer. The ground rippled and a series of rose bushes sprang up. They were beautiful at first – deep red buds blossoming open before his eyes – but a moment later the roses darkened, turning nearly black, and the stems of the bushes sprouted so many thorns that it would have been impossible to pluck them without bleeding.

Ray opened his eyes and Ryan saw his shoulders stiffen in surprise as he looked at his handwork.

“Was that deliberate?” he asked.

“...yes,” Ray replied, without looking at him.

Ryan knew it was a lie. He looked at the roses thoughtfully. When it came to directly making plants, emotion might affect Ray's powers. He wondered what was wrong – and it wasn't hard to guess.

“Where's your other half, then?” he asked, turning away from the garden. It came out casually but it was a deliberate test, and Ray wasn't so oblivious as to not realise that.

“Somewhere about,” he replied, holding a hand out over the roses until they finally began to turn lighter. “Probably off practicing.”

“He went out into the city,” Ryan informed him. “With Geoff's fool. My guards reported them leaving.”

He looked over at Ray in time to see annoyance flash over his face. The roses, which had been slowly turning red again, snapped immediately back to black, and he seemed to give up, turning away and folding his arms.

“He can do whatever he wants,” he replied. Ryan was impressed by how smoothly it came out. If he hadn't known something was wrong he might almost have believed that Ray didn't care.

“Are you going to perform better tomorrow?” he asked, wanting suddenly to put a dent in that composure. But Ray just shrugged.

“I can try. I mean, I'd _better_ , I can hardly do worse, can I?”

“After all, you don't want to let your entire kingdom, and _Michael_ , down,” Ryan added. He was back to needling, rather pettily, but Ray continued to just shrug.

“Let's hope not!” he declared, and then started _laughing_. “Or I might have to demand that we have a gardening competition to make it more fair to everyone's abilities.”

Ryan stared at him. If someone had been mocking him like this, he would've fired back at them by now. But Ray was just chuckling away, self-deprecating and appearing to give entirely zero fucks about what Ryan was saying to him.

“I don't understand you,” Ryan said finally, staring at him.

Ray stopped laughing. When he turned to Ryan there was something almost gentle in it.

“Should I be mad at you for humiliating me in front of everyone yesterday?” he asked. “I'm not. I don't give a fuck. So people laughed at me – so what? Who cares. They know what else I can do. What my gift does for my kingdom. It doesn't matter if I'm not good at sword fighting – that's not what keeps my people alive.”

“Not many could brush things off so easily,” Ryan pointed out. He knew nobility. With wealth and power usually came easily wounded pride.

But Ray just shook his head.

“Nothing anyone says matters,” he said, slowly. “Only the people you care about.”

“And what if there's no one you care about?” Ryan asked.

“That's a scary person, then,” Ray replied. “They'd have no limits. No one who could show them if they really went too far.”

Ryan considered this for a moment.

“I admire that attitude,” he said finally. “That makes you strong. But the people you care about shouldn't control you.”

“We're not talking about control,” Ray replied. “But people _need limits_. Or they're as bad as monsters.”

Ryan turned away. He didn't want to think about that. He could feel Ray's eyes on him and after a moment the other man spoke up again.

“When you inherit as young as I did, you look at the other kings for guidance,” he said. “My parents were good rulers. But they weren't there for me to copy when they passed so suddenly. Not giving a shit about people commenting, mocking, doubting – that's something I got from all three of you. You, Geoff, Michael's father. It's something Michael needs to learn now as well.”

Ryan couldn't help his startled laugh.

“Well, Geoff gives too many shits when it comes to this competition,” he pointed out, wondering if Ray had noticed it too – and indeed, the other man nodded.

“You're right,” he said, and shrugged. “He's not going to win.”

Ryan hummed. He turned away in silence, studying the rosebush Ray had made. When he looked up again the other man had gone, and he sighed, touching one of the ebony petals before letting it slip through his fingers. He couldn't stop thinking about what Gavin had said.

Ray's gift could change the production of food in his kingdom. They would actually be able to grow crops properly instead of having to expedition to the edge of the Wild just to get a little fertile soil, then collecting all the waste and fertiliser they could to grow things in only to live in fear of something going wrong and it all dying.

And his redstone could help Ray tremendously – there was little fuel in the desert, certainly none so powerful.

But it was unprecedented, not to mention that allying with someone else would make him _rely_ on them. Would force him to give up some of that precious control.

It was a good idea in theory, he thought darkly, standing up and leaving the garden. But you could never trust people not to let you down.

 

* * *

 

The morning of the chess tournament dawned horribly humid.

There was something thick and stagnant to the air in the whole castle, an awful warm stickiness that made everyone feel lethargic. It wasn't helping anyone's mood, only seeming to aggravate the already existing tension. Jack had woken up five times in the night covered in sweat with his heart pounding, on the verge of panic, and he wasn't even _competing_.

It didn't help that he still hadn't managed to talk to Geoff properly. The other man had avoided everyone the entirety of yesterday, spending his time locked in his rooms or beating the dummies in the training yard to smithereens, rebuffing all Jack's attempts to speak to him. He'd even left dinner early, claiming tiredness – and locked his bedroom door.

Now Gavin and Jack stood outside said door. There were two hours until the tournament would begin and no one had seen Geoff all morning.

“I can pick the lock,” Gavin suggested, glancing up at Jack. His eyes were wide and although his tone was jovial, it was obvious he was just as worried.

“We don't need to go that far,” Jack replied, although he was starting to grow seriously concerned. He rapped on the door again. “Geoff? Please let us in, come on. We need to talk before the match.”

For a long moment, silence. Then, finally, they heard the heavy pad of footsteps behind the door, the lock turning – and it finally cracked open to reveal Geoff.

He looked like shit, there was no kind way to put it. He hadn't dressed yet, or shaved - was still in his sweat-stained nightshirt with an unhealthy glisten to his pale skin. Jack frowned, bustling into the room with Gavin trailing after him.

“Shit, Geoff, you need to clean yourself up,” he said. “You're not _drunk_ , are you?”

“No,” Geoff snapped, kicking the door shut. “I'm not fucking drunk. Or hungover. I'm not _that_ stupid, Jack, no matter what you think.”

“I didn't say you were stupid,” Jack said. The worry was like a cold stone in his gut, because Geoff did not look prepared for this match, not even a little. “What the hell happened, then?”

“I woke up feeling sick, that's what. Fucking threw up like fifty times in there.”

“Food poisoning?” Gavin contributed. “Are you throwing up out the other end too?”

“ _No_ , Gavin. Fuck off,” Geoff snapped. “I'm just-”

“Nervous,” Jack cut in. “Anxious about the competition. That's understandable. Are you too ill to compete?”

“I'm not fucking ill. I'm _fine._ It's all going to be fine.” Geoff's voice was tight, irritated, and Jack couldn't figure it out. He was obviously worked up as hell over the thought that he might lose again – that he might blow the whole kingdom's chances at this – but clearly clinging to his pride as well, or he'd at least admit it.

“Okay then,” Jack said, and went over to the closet, pulling out Geoff's clothes as well as a fresh towel. “Go and clean yourself up. We only have a few hours until the tournament. You'll be fine – a bad start to the morning doesn't matter. Wash up and get some food in you and you'll feel a lot better.”

Geoff snatched the clothes and hurried into adjoining washroom, shutting the door behind him. There was a long silence before they heard him retching again, and Jack closed his eyes briefly.

_It's okay. It'll be okay._

He didn't know what to do. Geoff would never agree to let a champion take his place – wouldn't want to lose face in front of Ryan – but it was apparent that he was not in a great headspace to be competing right now. The stress of it all was just too much.

He sighed heavily, reaching up to rub at his aching temples. The oppressive heat wasn't helping either. Beside him, Gavin walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting out a huff of breath.

They must've been stood about for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. By the time Geoff finally emerged, he looked a lot better – he'd shaved, washed up and dressed himself. Combed his hair. There was a bit more colour in his face, and Jack felt faintly relieved.

“Right then,” Geoff said, like they hadn't heard him throwing up less than half an hour before. He sounded exhausted, now, more than anything else. “What's happening out there?”

“They're setting up the tournament room – I think they're moving it somewhere cooler because of the weather,” Jack said. “You should eat, if you haven't yet. You'll need a full stomach to think properly.”

“I need a drink is what,” Geoff declared, heading for the table by the side of the room.

“Geoff...”

“I told you. I didn't have any last night.”

Jack stared helplessly at Geoff as he poured out what looked like a strong spirit. Gavin wrinkled his nose – they could smell it from here – and he knocked it back in one gulp.

“On an _empty stomach_?” Jack pointed out.

“I'm about to go eat,” Geoff protested, knowing perfectly well that was not how it worked.

Jack opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Gavin suddenly piped up from the bed.

“Put me in.”

They both turned to look at him.

“What?” Geoff demanded.

“Put me in as your champion,” Gavin continued slowly. “Let me play the game for you.”

Geoff and Jack exchanged an incredulous glance. Then Geoff _laughed_ , harshly, hysterically, and swung his hand to point at Gavin.

“ _He's_ the one who's fucking drunk,” he declared, and Gavin bit his lip.

“You're not in the right headspace for this,” he explained, patiently. “You're not going to win, Geoff.”

Jack saw Geoff's shoulders stiffen as he slowly put the bottle down, alarm – then anger – flashing across his face.

“Way to inspire confidence, Gav,” he snapped.

Gavin just shook his head.

“It's the truth, okay?” he said. “You're tired. You're stressed. You know what chess is like – you have to be focused. It's not a game you can just wing. I know you don't want to put a champion in against Ryan. And yes, if you put in Jack, or any of your courtiers, it'd look like you were getting them to play because you were too scared to do it yourself. But I'm just the court fool – if you put a _clown_ in against Ryan, it'll look like you're mocking him.”

“Not when you fucking lose to all of them,” Geoff said curtly.

“I won't lose.” Gavin lifted his chin, eyes flashing. “Geoff, I know how to play chess. I can do it. Let me help you.”

Jack could see Gavin's point – if they were to put a champion in without losing face, it could only be him – but on the other hand, it was _Gavin_. Gavin who asked genuinely stupid questions at times, Gavin who struggled with basic maths, who didn't understand half the things that happened in court - Gavin who was raised in a _circus_. He wasn't stupid, no, but his talents were very select, and with so much on the line, there was no way they could risk it.

“Come on,” Jack said – kind, but stern. “Don't be silly. Every noble here has been playing chess with their tutors since they were young. Even Michael, I'd bet, even if it was less often. It's the game of kings, not-”

“I know how to play chess!” Gavin protested, sounding a bit annoyed now. “I can _do it_ , Jack – Geoff, I _can._ They won't be expecting me-”

Geoff had been pouring another shot, but he slammed the bottle down now with a ringing _clank_.

“Stop being fucking stupid-”

“ _I'm not being stupid_!” Gavin shouted. “You will _lose_ , Geoff, this is our only chance-”

“ _You_ playing chess is our only chance? Then we're pretty much fucked already.” Geoff began to laugh again before coming to an abrupt stop and starting furiously towards Gavin. “Just shut _up_ , Gavin, okay? I don't need you getting in my head like this before the game, telling me I'm going to fail – you _cannot_ fuck this up for me, alright? So just stop with the ridiculous ideas. And stop telling me I'm going to _lose._ Gods' sake.”

Gavin bit his lip. He glanced towards Jack, who shook his head slowly.

“It's not a good idea,” he murmured.

Gavin looked more annoyed than Jack had ever seen him.

“I'm trying to help you,” he insisted, defensively.

“Help? You haven't done a fucking thing since we got here,” Geoff snapped. “I asked you to talk to the people around here for information – have you done that yet?”

“I talked to Michael-”

“Yeah? Get anything useful from him? What about Ryan's servants, his soldiers – _he's_ who we're worried about. Have you got _anything_ that'll help me win this?”

Gavin was silent, face white saved for two spots of colour flushed high on his cheeks.

“Didn't fucking think so,” Geoff muttered, and turned away, pouring himself another measure of liquor. There was a tense silence in the room – Jack could see Gavin's fists clenched, practically trembling. Himself standing awkwardly, caught between them.

Geoff drained the other glass and started laughing again, quietly and cruelly.

“ _You_ play the chess for me... there's a fucking thought.”

He was being mean because he was stressed, Jack knew. It had all built up and was bound to come lashing out eventually – and now Gavin had inadvertently put him in a bad mood again. And the three of them were so close that he and Gavin had to support Geoff, here, were the only two people who could possibly reassure him – so to hear Gavin so certain that he'd lose that he wanted to _replace_ him must've cut deep. Must've been _terrifying_.

“I need some fucking food,” Geoff muttered finally, and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jack hesitated, wanting to go after him, to talk – he _missed_ him, after having been avoided so much the last two days – but he thought better of it, deciding to let Geoff eat first.

An uncomfortable silence fell in the room. When Jack looked over at Gavin, he had his head down, hands fisting in the blankets of the bed.

“It's not a stupid idea,” he said without looking up, voice tight. “I _know how to play chess_! I can't possibly do worse than he's going to.”

“You didn't need to discourage him like that,” Jack chided softly, and Gavin looked up. His eyes were burning, upset.

“I wasn't trying to,” he cried.

“I know, Gavin, you're never _trying_ to, just...” Jack trailed off, rubbing his eyes, frustrated by everything that had gone on since they got here. It was wearing him down too. “Leave this to us, alright? We actually understand what we're doing here.”

Gavin let out a furious little noise. He jumped up off the bed and marched out of the room as well.

Jack stared after him, a sinking feeling in his stomach. After a moment he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands with a groan. He'd tried to be optimistic since they got here, but with everything going more and more wrong and the two people he cared most about fighting with each other...

Things were not looking good for them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> justisaisfine made [this amazing fanart](http://whalehuntingboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/141020626524/justisaisfine-damn-isa-back-at-it-again-with) from chapter 2 of the fic! Thank you so much, it is incred <3


	6. Chapter 6

Michael was fairly certain that Ray was avoiding him.

Then again, _everyone_ seemed to be avoiding each other. Geoff had run off at dinner yesterday, Ryan'd supposedly had meetings all day and had retired early. But Ray had been oddly quiet, talking with other people so that Michael couldn't strike up a conversation with him, and then left to his rooms claiming he was seeking an early night. Michael hadn't wanted to bother him.

But he went to find him now – the tournament would be starting soon and he didn't want them to have an awkward encounter there in front of everyone else.

“Ray?” he asked, as he approached the other man's chambers – the door was open and he lingered in the doorway, knocking quietly.

Ray was sitting on his bed, playing chess against himself. He looked up when he saw Michael and smiled so genuinely that Michael wondered if yesterday's awkwardness had completely blown over.

“Hey,” he said, shifting the chessboard aside. “You ready?”

“I don't think practicing would do me any more good at this point,” Michael said. He came in and sat next to Ray on the bed, reaching up and fanning himself. “Gods, it's fucking hot in here.”

“I know,” Ray agreed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “This fucking weather is ridiculous.”

“You live in the _desert_ , shouldn't you be used to this?”

Ray laughed, and it was so good to see him smiling after Michael had been working himself up all day yesterday thinking he was upset with him that he couldn't help grinning back.

“That's dry heat,” Ray pointed out. “This is humid, it feels so gross. I hope it breaks soon. It's not even sunny out, so I think there might be a storm coming.”

Michael nodded. A silence fell between them and Ray turned back to fidget with the chessboard. A white rook slid across the board to capture a black pawn. A second later, black's bishop took vengeance. Even Michael could tell it had been a ridiculous move.

“Is everything okay between us?” he asked, abruptly.

He saw Ray's shoulders tense minutely, but when the other man looked up there was only a calm confusion in his face.

“Of course,” he replied. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...I don't know.” Michael shifted, pulling at his shirt again. He was too hot, the air oppressive and sticky around them. Now he felt like _he_ was the one making it awkward, bringing up something Ray had no idea about – had he been imagining it? Surely not. “I barely saw you yesterday after you left.”

“I mean, you weren't _here_ to see me,” Ray pointed out, sacrificing his other rook for nothing but another pawn. “I heard you went out into the city.”

Michael blinked a few times, a bit taken aback that Ray knew that.

“Yes,” he replied.

“With the fool,” Ray continued.

“Gavin,” Michael corrected absently. “Yeah, we went exploring, had a look around.”

“Have fun?” Ray asked, rather abruptly.

Michael nodded. “Yes?”

“An interesting choice of company,” Ray muttered. Another black pawn was swallowed, by a knight this time. It was an interesting strategy, weeding out the weak first, though not a very effective one – the white side was losing all its powerful pieces.

“You'd like him,” Michael replied – it'd have been nice if Ray could have come along yesterday. He'd've liked to hear the other man's thoughts on the Wild. “You should get to know him more. All the politicians and courtiers are so ancient but we see them so often – there aren't a lot of people our age around us since we became kings.”

“I don't need anyone else,” Ray said, staring at the board. “I've always just had you. That's enough.”

Michael stared at him. He was touched – but Ray had always been introverted, preferring to sit inside than run about with the other sons of nobles, sparring or playing about the expansive castle grounds. He was always eager to hang out with Michael, but never really anyone else.

“I don't know,” he replied. “It was nice talking to someone so different. Gavin's funny. I like him a lot.”

Ray's jaw clenched. Michael was puzzled, but before he could say anything else, Ray turned to him. His face was harder than Michael had ever seen it.

“Okay, Michael, I'm not trying to be an asshole here, but you have to be careful. I know that you're new to being king and I get it, alright, it's hard at first suddenly being in charge of everyone, but... if people see you hanging around Gavin all the time, they're gonna talk. Talk about how you let someone else's _fool_ call you by name, treat you casually, pretty much disrespect you – they'll start thinking they can get away with it too. Not to mention, you're a _king_ , you can't be friends with everyone. Especially someone who works for Geoff Ramsey. How do you know you can trust him?”

“Don't be stupid,” Michael snapped, irritated by the accusations and feeling uncomfortably chastised. He didn't need even more reminding of just how inexperienced he was – had never thought he'd get that from _Ray_. “Why shouldn't I trust him? Geoff isn’t our enemy.”

“He's desperate to win these games,” Ray insisted. Then added, “The only people we can be _sure_ we can trust are each other. Like I said, I'm not trying to be an asshole, but there are a lot of people who want to see you fail and they'll take any possible chance to use things against you.”

Michael just scowled. He didn't want to hear it.

“Well, look at Geoff and Gavin,” he said. “They barely hide how close they are, and they're fine. He's still in control. No one cares what he gets up to in his own time. Besides, I don't care what people say about me – I didn't think you did, either.”

“It's not what they say, it's what they can _do_ if they get it into their heads that you're weak,” Ray insisted.

Michael just laughed, loudly.

“They can think whatever the fuck they want,” he pointed out. “They're wrong. I'm not weak. I'm literally the strongest person around.”

Ray bit his lip and didn't argue further.

“Either way,” he murmured, “You should've been practicing yesterday. Instead you went out exploring. Don't let this fool distract you.”

Michael still didn't like all this – the whole spiel had been uncharacteristic of Ray and was only making it ever clearer that there was something wrong here – but he didn't want to talk about it any more.

“Alright, _father_ ,” he mocked, and Ray pulled a face.

“I'm nothing like your father,” he said.

“You're right,” Michael agreed. “You're not. I guess you've decided to play the nagging husband then.”

He said it teasingly, but Ray's laugh was a little more forced than usual. Either way, the conversation reminded Michael of what he'd originally come here to discuss. It also reminded him of how bad he'd felt about upsetting Ray, even inadvertently – how much he hated this tension between them and wanted to sort it out.

He shifted closer on the bed and reached out, touching Ray's hand gently.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “We need to talk about some things.”

“Well that's a scary sentence,” Ray muttered, and Michael huffed out a laugh.

“After the chess,” he amended. “When we're not rushed. It's nothing bad, just – I think we need to discuss this marriage thing more. Work out where all the lines are, exactly what our long-term strategy's going to be, both if we win and if we don't. We should have beforehand, if only we hadn't been in such a rush to get here in time for the games.”

“Of course,” Ray replied quickly, but then fell silent. Michael stared at him, but if there was one thing Ray was good at, it was keeping a straight face when he wanted to.

“Okay?” he asked, and when Ray turned to him he smiled.

“Okay,” Ray replied, and Michael squeezed his hand before slotting their fingers together and lifting their clasped hands up. The little diamond on Ray's ring shimmered prettily – Michael was still getting used to the one on his own finger. He never used to wear jewellery.

“United front once we get in there,” Michael said. “Right?”

“Right,” Ray replied, and his lips twitched, but his eyes weren't smiling.

And now that Michael was on the lookout for it, he could see that things were strange. Ray was a master at acting like nothing bothered him, and it was only because Michael knew him so well that he could tell he was off.

And it _hurt_ , because Ray was his best friend. Michael had only ever wanted him to be happy. He needed to find out what was wrong, exactly where everyone's head was at here, so they could continue forward on the same page.

But they could sort that out later.

Michael more than anyone else needed to focus on performing well in this competition. He had a lead from the duels but if he lost it in the chess, he and Ray wouldn't have a great chance at getting the crown.

Their talk could wait until afterwards.

 

* * *

 

“King Ryan!”

Ryan paused where he'd been striding purposefully down the hall, heading for the stairs that would take him down to where the chess tournament had been set up. All morning he'd been getting himself in the zone, ready to focus and beat all the other kings by whatever means necessary. He had little doubt that he would win. Chess was a game he was very, very good at.

But he was a bit alarmed that all it took was one familiar voice to distract him. To have his hard resolve softening into curiosity as he turned and found Gavin hurrying towards him with a look on his face that had Ryan feeling something far too close to concerned.

Gavin had been wary, sometimes annoyed when Ryan needled at him – but in general, when Ryan saw him about the place, he was always smiling and friendly. Even that, he had to admit, had been a refreshing change from the usual sour-faced politicians that lurked around the court.

But now he looked upset, his face pale and eyes hard and red. Ryan wasn't sure why it bothered him so much.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked. “This level is for myself and my staff only-”

He broke off as Gavin thrust a hand out. Clenched tightly in his fist was a scrap of black and green, and Ryan froze as he realised what it was.

“That's your...”

“For your experiments,” Gavin said, voice tight. And then, “And also, a favour. For luck in the chess. If you accept it... wear it, won't you?”

His hand was shaking. Ryan looked at it – then his eyes shifted to Gavin's scarf, the jagged unevenness at one end where he'd obviously hacked it furiously with a knife. Whatever the material was, it didn't fray, but it was obvious Gavin had been angry when he cut it. It was unlike him, to be so careless with something Ryan knew was so important to him.

“A favour,” he repeated, slowly.

Gavin nodded. His eyes were burning and Ryan didn't know what to make of this, only that something had obviously happened to make him so upset with Geoff that he'd give _Ryan_ a favour for luck instead. It was a petty, personal sort of vengeance and while some malicious part of himself couldn't help being _amused_ by the drama that was obviously going on within Geoff's group, the rest was reluctantly almost concerned.

_What the fuck did you do to piss him off at you so badly, Ramsey?_ He couldn't help but think, remembering Gavin's previous rigorous defence of the other king. How familiar they'd seemed, to the point where Ryan had been fairly convinced that the two of them were closer than friends – and he wasn't the sort of man to jump to conclusions.

“You should be giving this to your king,” he said carefully, and Gavin's brows furrowed, more angry than Ryan had ever seen him.

“He doesn't need my help,” he said.

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“And you think I do?”

“No,” Gavin replied firmly, and lifted his chin. “I think I would be very surprised if you didn't win today.”

It wasn't the fawning flattery of people who wanted something from him – and because of that, it was far more pleasing to hear. Ryan reached out and took the scrap of scarf; he was constantly surprised by just how soft the fabric was, how pleasant to touch as he rubbed it between his fingers.

“No one gives favours in this kingdom,” he commented. “It's a rather archaic practice. Hasn't been done here for decades. You realise that traditionally you only give these to someone you have a romantic interest in?”

Gavin's cheeks went red, but he just shrugged.

“Or someone you admire,” he pointed out, and Ryan's brows furrowed.

“You admire me?” he asked, a little too much genuine confusion slipping through. When Gavin just looked up at him earnestly, he frowned again. “Geoff would not be happy to hear that.”

“I don't see why I shouldn't,” Gavin replied, irritated again at the mention of Geoff. “You're very intelligent. You've helped me more than anyone else in finding my parents. You don't treat me like I'm stupid. And I don't think the stories are right – you're not dishonourable like they all say you are.”

Once Ryan might have retorted, coldly, that he'd only helped because he wanted to learn more about creepers himself. But now he couldn't bring himself to – _knew_ that wasn't true – was stuck on Gavin's last comment, anyhow.

“If you knew some things about me,” he said, stiffly, “You might not say that.”

Gavin considered this. He didn't look like he believed Ryan, but he didn't argue either, which Ryan couldn't help being grateful for.

“Will you wear it?” he asked instead, and Ryan looked down at the little piece of material and found himself saying:

“Yes.”

Gavin gave a small, genuine smile, and Ryan opened his jacket and tied the favour to his shirt underneath. As much as he'd've loved to see Geoff's face if he wore it somewhere obvious, he was perceptive enough to tell that Gavin didn't want it displayed publicly – wasn't actively trying to humiliate Geoff by showing Ryan his support. Just wanted his own personal little revenge.

Maybe once he wouldn't have cared what the fool wanted. But now – he'd never realised, before, how _pleasing_ it was to have a favour to carry into the games with him. Even if it wasn't visible, he was suddenly very aware of it. And he could get by fine on his own – always had – but somehow, that little reminder that one person was rooting for him for _himself_ _,_ not just because he represented their interests...

He couldn't remember the last time that'd happened. And he'd gotten used to that – but it was warming, now, to have it.

“We can do the tests on this later,” he said, patting the fabric before pulling his jacket back over it.

“I can help?” Gavin asked tentatively.

“I need a lab assistant.” His need to sound uncaring still prevailed, making it come out casual, almost dismissive – but Gavin still looked shyly pleased at being included in a way that suddenly made Ryan ache. He wanted to ask what had happened. If he was okay. But he held back.

“I need to go,” he said, and Gavin nodded. His eyes darted to Ryan's chest and where the favour was hidden away, and he gave a tight, vindictive smile before bowing. Ryan turned away and continued on down the hall. When he reached the staircase he paused, collecting himself, bringing that mask of blank smugness back up again.

He felt flattered in a strange, almost excited way, and didn't quite know what to make of it.

Many people feared him, others still disliked him for his reputation. He didn't think anyone had ever _admired_ him before, especially for the things Gavin had listed. It pleased him more than it should – had him looking at himself for the first time not in the technical, objective terms of what he'd improved in his kingdom, what he was in command of and how much he was in control, but as a person, a person who had done good things, worthy of others' respect.

And of course, then, he thought of Geoff.

The other man was well admired by the younger kings, he knew. And he couldn't help but wonder now what the hell he could have done to make Gavin stop looking up to him and get so upset with him instead.

When he was young, Ryan had looked up to the other man too – the foreign prince of the plains was a popular figure, especially when he was forced to inherit early and immediately took strong command of his parents' kingdom and proved himself a benevolent, well-loved leader.

But Ryan had grown up since then. And Geoff's palpable dislike of him – a dislike he'd never hidden since Ryan got old enough to understand that the Ramseys hated the Haywoods – made it hard to like him. He had always known, somehow, that Geoff would slip up and make enemies.

And he'd saved Geoff's life, when his mother plotted the marriage and the attempt to kill him – but that had also been a breaking point in his own relationship with the queen and since then he had never been able to stop thinking about how different things might've been if he'd been able to tell Geoff then and there what she had been plotting. How she had started to go too far. How she needed to be _stopped_.

He had never been able to stop resenting Geoff – resenting him for hating Ryan when he never even knew him, just because he was Queen Haywood's son and thus apparently compliant with everything she was doing – resenting him for not seeing past Ryan's quiet surface and realising that he _wasn't_ just some silent, lurking evil presence standing by waiting to continue in his parents' footsteps.

Resenting him for _assuming_ – and because of that, for ensuring that he had never been friendly enough that Ryan could have gone to him for assistance when he needed it most. When he'd been young, and unsure, and Geoff was older and always seemed to know what to do and-

_She's out of control-_

_The things she's planning-_

_I don't know what to do-_

Maybe things might have turned out differently if he'd been able to approach Geoff for help. Maybe if he had, then even now now Geoff would understand that Ryan had never been what the rumours made him out to be.

It wasn't Geoff's fault. He knew that objectively. Everyone had looked at Ryan like that, had spread black whispers, since he got old enough to be feared. But when there were things haunted you so greatly, it was hard, sometimes, not to assign blame.

_She made me do it. I had no choice. I had no choice because I couldn't ask him for help._

When he couldn't sleep at night, they were the thoughts that rattled endlessly through his head. But he was a logical man and in the end he always came to the same conclusion.

_It's not true. No one made you do it._

That was partly why he kept himself cold and aloof – why he avoided his people and let the rumours continue, that he was still the dark prince, still part of the mad family who had dictated over the Stoneworld for decades – he deserved to be hated, after everything. He deserved for them to think the worst of him, even if he told himself he didn't care-

_But Gavin doesn't hate you_.

These last few days had been the first time in a long time that someone other than Kerry had spent time with him without constantly being on tenterhooks, without looking at him like they were waiting for him to snap, like they were expecting the worst – the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone, had someone laugh and grin and _flirt_ with him.

Maybe Gavin was just too stupid to know better. But Ryan couldn't help liking him far too much for that, enthralled by this little mystery creature and all the questions he'd brought with him, and he gave a faint almost-smile now as he touched his jacket over the favour and continued on to the competition.

 

* * *

 

“...are you okay?”

Michael raised his eyebrows as Geoff jumped violently, whipping around from where he'd been standing slumped against the wall a few corridors down from the tournament room, head resting against the blessedly cool stone. He certainly didn't look okay – there were dark shadows under his eyes and even if he forced a smile now, he was so visibly nervous that Michael stopped short and stared at him, unsure how to react.

Until he'd come to these games he'd never met Geoff before. But he'd heard about him – and looked up to him, another king who'd inherited far too young but made something of himself. He'd heard of how Geoff was friendly with his people, casual, how he didn't give two fucks about the propriety of what he said or did, and after seeing him interact with Jack and Gavin it'd been apparent that he kept his true friends close.

Not even unconsciously, that was what Michael had started modelling _himself_ on, the moment he was forced to take inherit. The idea that a king should be reserved, proper, keep themselves distant from their people to avoid scandal – that was something that'd been drilled into Ray's head since he grew up, he knew. But in the alps you could drink hard as long as you also fought hard, knew how to lead your men, and proved yourself in battle. Michael knew how to do all that, but when it came to the political side of things he had very clearly looked up to Geoff for inspiration.

And when they arrived here and he actually met him, he'd been impressed by Geoff's seemingly unconcerned demeanour; his blatant ignoring of Ryan's rules and casual attitude.

But here was all that falling apart in front of him; it was obvious that performing badly in the duels had gotten to him. Michael wasn't quite sure what to think, how someone who'd always been so laid back could be crumbling so quickly.

“I'm fine,” Geoff replied, voice tight with embarrassment.

Michael just shrugged.

“It's okay if you're nervous. Ryan's intimidating enough on his own let alone when he's trying to play chess. Give me a sword any day over this fucking board game rubbish.”

“I'm not nervous,” Geoff snapped, and Michael shrugged again.

“I know I beat the shit out of you in the duels-”

“Fucking brag about it.”

“I'm not bragging,” Michael replied easily. “Everyone saw me do it. But I'm the one who's gonna do awfully here. I am so fucking bad at chess. I'm just throwing all my chips in the sword fighting basket and hoping I do decently in archery, too.”

“You say that like you don't even care if you win the crown,” Geoff muttered.

“It's important,” Michael agreed, “But it's more important that I show my people I'm willing to compete, even if I don't win. Besides, why do you think I married Ray? That's our backup plan.”

“Well that's fucking helpful,” Geoff said. “Who the fuck is left for me to marry? Ryan? This time he actually might poison me when I'm not looking.”

Michael had no idea what that was supposed to mean. After a moment Geoff just sighed and rubbed his temples.

“You have no idea,” he groaned, “How much I need this.”

Michael stared at him, unsure what he meant. Before they could talk more, footsteps rang out behind him and he turned to find Ray and a crowd of his courtiers showing up as it drew close to the hour when the games would begin. Geoff straightened up, face pulling into something that at least looked more on the side of _grumpy_ than _shitting himself_. Still – Ray's eyes lingered on him for a moment, curious, before he came up by Michael's side.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I'll never be ready,” Michael replied, and Ray laughed, only to trail off when Michael slipped a hand into his. For a moment Ray stiffened a bit and Michael glanced at him, concerned. Ray had never been anything but enthusiastic about their touching and kissing before – Michael had almost started to think he was taking the piss, revelling in putting on a show for the others with the knowledge that it was really their own private joke, their own private victory-

But he hesitated now, and Michael still couldn't figure out what was wrong. What he'd done since last time that had Ray nearly pulling away.

Whatever it was, it faded away quickly, because after his initial pause Ray wrapped his fingers around Michael's and squeezed back.

_United front,_ Michael thought. _Do everything we can to remind them that we're working together now. Keep it in their minds._

They filed into the room alongside the others. The games had originally been planned to take place in the parlour, but due to the humidity had been moved to the great hall. It was a relief to step into the relative coolness of the room, with its high stone ceilings and expansive space.

Two tables were set up in the middle of the space, some distance apart from each other, a chessboard already set out on each. While many members of the court naturally wanted to watch, to avoid them being a distraction, their seats were laid out some distance away – they couldn't see the boards from there, only the occasional movement of a piece being knocked out.

Ryan was already standing in the centre of the room. His arms were folded and he was gazing out at the crowd. Michael also looked out, taking note of his own warriors – they were an ill fit in this solemn room surrounded by nobles and politicians, squashed into their little chairs and silent for once in their lives. He smiled a little, then couldn't help searching for Gavin.

It took a while to find him. He wasn't sitting with Jack, but way at the back on his own. His usual smile was absent; he was fiddling nervously with the ends of his scarf, which he still wore despite the heat. Michael frowned, but figured that Geoff's nervousness was probably making him uneasy as well.

“Come on,” Ray whispered, and tugged at his hand, leading him over to stand next to Ryan. The other man glanced down at them impassively when they came up to him.

“Good luck,” Ray said, and Ryan just tilted his head.

“Luck is not a factor in chess,” he replied. “It is a game of skill and strategy.”

Michael scowled at his rudeness, but Ray just snorted.

“So you won't care if I change that to _bad luck_ then,” he said, and there was an almost teasing note in his voice that gave Michael pause. Ryan just huffed, but Michael could tell he was almost amused. He frowned a little, but they were quickly distracted by Kerry clearing his throat loudly from the front of the audience.

“If we're all settled, let's begin,” he announced. He was a funny little fellow, Michael couldn't help but think – not the sort he'd imagine Ryan would pick as his right hand. As it was, he got to business quickly, Jack coming up to help him with the drawing of the names again.

“One match will be between King Michael and King Ray,” he announced, and Michael heard Ray give an annoyed little huff next to him. “The other will be between King Ryan and King Geoff.”

“Damn it,” Ray whispered, and Michael turned to him, tilting his head.

“Why? Isn't this good? You're certain to win now.”

“It eliminates any chance of us winning both first and second place,” Ray pointed out, and Michael laughed so loudly that everyone turned to look at them.

“Like that was ever going to happen,” he replied, and Ray's lips twitched a bit as they went to sit down. They passed Geoff as he headed to the other table, and Michael caught a glimpse of his face. It was pale and drawn. He looked like someone had just died. Ryan, on the other hand, wasn't even bothering to hide his smirk. Michael was glad there was little chance he'd play against the other man.

Jack came over to their table. The two teams would be playing at the same time – one of Ray's delegation was approaching Geoff and Ryan.

“Heads or tails?” he asked.

“Heads,” Michael said, and Jack tossed the coin. It came up heads, and Michael sat down first, picking the black side of the board and leaving the advantageous white for Ray. Jack bowed and went to sit down again, but Michael didn't miss the way he glanced over his shoulder, casting a worried glance at Geoff, who had, it seemed, won the coin toss and selected white.

“There's your fucking luck factor,” Ray muttered, subtly flicking the finger at Ryan, and Michael snorted.

“You were pretty polite to his face back there.”

“All in good fun,” Ray replied, moving a pawn forward.

“Is it?” He matched the exact same move Ray had. “Not much fucking fun about him trying to make us look like fools all the time.”

“He's abrasive. People say the same thing about you, you know,” Ray said, lips twitching a little.

“How dare you,” Michael replied immediately, but he was so glad to see Ray smiling again that he could only grin himself. He studied the board – they'd moved enough pawns forward that he had free reign to do what he wanted with his other pieces – but had no idea what to do. “I can throw this game right away if you want.”

“No, this is a chance to practice,” Ray said. “Are you sure you don't want me to throw it? You have a shot at first place?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Michael demanded. Ray's tone hadn't been as joking as he would've expected, and when he looked up the other man was nibbling nervously at his bottom lip. “There's no way we'll get first if I play.”

“Right,” Ray murmured, and cast a nervous glance at the other table. They were talking quietly enough that no one around could hear them; if Ryan and Geoff had been conversing, they wouldn't have heard that either. “I... I don't know if I can beat Ryan.”

“I think you can,” Michael said confidently, and at Ray's dubious look, “You know how to play chess. You know all the tricks. If he picks white he'll have first move advantage – I'd have no idea what to do there but you do, you know all the moves to counter whatever he does. You showed me all the shit that you'd studied, all the combinations and shit – anything he throws at you, you'll have a way better chance of dealing with than me.”

“I've practiced a lot lately,” Ray agreed, and bit his lip. “But you know what Ryan's like.”

“You can be just as intimidating with people not knowing what you think,” Michael pointed out. “Me, I just get pissed off with him. At least you know how to keep a straight face. It might throw him off.”

“Yeah,” Ray said softly. He moved a rook forward absently and captured one of Michael's pieces, and Michael frowned a bit. Ray was usually far more confident than this, or if he wasn't, he never let it show.

“Hey,” he said, instead of making his own move when Ray looked up at him expectantly. “You can do it. I believe in you. I got us through the duels but this is your territory – I'm not the only one carrying the team here.”

“How sweet,” Ray said drily, but his lips had quirked upwards again.

“I mean it,” Michael insisted. He hated seeing Ray so uncharacteristically nervous – wanted to reassure him, do anything to help – and thought nothing of reaching out and folding a hand over his, smiling at him encouragingly. Ray's eyes darted up to his and there was an odd shyness there that Michael had never seen him display before; he smiled back and Michael squeezed his hand before pulling back and finally moving his own chess piece.

Ray was still staring at him – but he shook himself at that, smiled again, and continued to play.

 

* * *

 

Geoff had a pounding headache. It was hard to concentrate on the game, the black and white checks of the board seeming to pulse dizzily before his eyes. He couldn't focus, couldn't take in which pieces were his, which move would be the best to make.

“You don't look well, Geoff.”

Ryan's voice was soft, so soft that no one but Geoff could hear it. Sibilant, too - like the devils in the stories of old, whispering in his ear.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled back, and clumsily moved a knight forward to block the path of one of Ryan's pawns.

“You're sweating,” Ryan continued quietly, as he calmly slid a bishop across the board and captured the knight. Geoff hadn't even noticed he'd put it right in the bishop's path. “You're not concentrating well. Could it be the pressure getting to you?”

“Can you just fuck off,” Geoff hissed, and glanced up, glaring at him. God, he hated the man – his amused little smirk, how he was obviously getting some twisted pleasure out of watching Geoff squirm. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Problem?”

“Yeah, fuckface. Even Michael wasn't this fucking smug when he beat me.”

“You should hardly be surprised,” Ryan replied, staring back at him with those hard blue eyes that always made Geoff so uncomfortable. The other man's mask was flawless; he never had any idea what he was thinking. It was like staring at a porcelain doll – cold, lifeless. “After all, I am not kind to anyone.”

“A-fucking-pparently.” He moved another knight, but there was no semblance of strategy, no matter how hard he tried to focus. He'd already lost half his pawns and both rooks. At this point he was mostly hoping that random moves would fuck up whatever Ryan was planning. “And you don't see a problem with that?”

“What do you think?” Ryan asked, and Geoff could only snort.

“I think you're a power-hungry asshole, that's what. You don't care about anyone but yourself.”

“And that's why you dislike me so much,” Ryan observed, folding his hands under his chin and studying the chessboard. “And have since first meeting.”

“I heard enough about you. And you certainly didn't disprove any of it when we met.” He could still remember the first time he saw Ryan in person, back when they were both young princes and the boy and his mother had visited the plains court. He hadn't liked Ryan at all; even five years younger than him there had been something very disconcerting about him, something that made Geoff feel wary. Already taller than him, an ice prince dressed entirely in black, following his mother around like a second shadow. He'd been so quiet that it was nearly terrifying, had stared very intently at Geoff everywhere he went, and recoiled away from the rowdy friends that Geoff spent most of his time with. He'd mostly ignored him during that visit.

Only a few years after that, Queen Haywood had started taking her dictatorship to extremes and the stories about Ryan began as well. Whispers of cruel experiments, of he and his mother plotting together late into the night, stories of him as her cruel second in command. He knew that Ryan had gone off to one of the universities of the plains, but it hadn't been long before he was called home again. And the stories about the Haywood regime continued, to the displeasure of everyone in Geoff's family.

Ryan was just as fucking creepy now that he was all grown up and staring at Geoff blankly over the top of the chessboard.

“There's a difference between being power-hungry and realising the need for firm control,” he replied smoothly. “And of the two of us, we both know who's starving for that crown. Oh,” he added, as Geoff lifted another piece. “Do you really want to move there?”

Geoff grit his teeth. He had no idea if Ryan was messing with him or not, and moved the piece anyway – a second later, Ryan's queen swallowed his second knight.

“I warned you,” Ryan sighed, and Geoff had to bite back a snarl, fists clenching under the table. He knew he shouldn't let Ryan get to him, but he just couldn't help the way the other man's snide comments and little smirks and huffs whenever he made a move were making him more and more worked up.

He chose not to respond, instead looking over to where Jack was sitting. The other man was leaning forward, straining to try and see the board. He smiled encouragingly when Geoff met his eyes, but when the king turned back to the board he was still off his game, struggling to concentrate.

They played on in silence for some time. Geoff lost another two pawns – then his queen, and had to pause, frustration rising and making it even harder to focus. He had no strategy, and every time he made any sort of plan Ryan foiled it immediately. The other man was clearly moving to pin Geoff's king down now, and he could see any remote chance of victory slipping away before his eyes.

He didn't know what to do.

He stared at the board for a long time, trying and failing to come up with some plan, some move. It was terrible – the entire hall was silent, and Ryan was staring, and he could feel the audience's eyes on him, and it was just so _hot_ , his collar sticking to his throat and seeming to choke him, that oppressive humidity bearing down and making it feel like the walls were closing in on him-

He finally picked up a bishop only for Ryan to let out a little hiss. When he looked up the man had screwed his face up as though Geoff had just made some terrible mistake.

Fuck him. Seriously, _fuck him_ , because of his previous behaviour Geoff now had no idea if he should move it or not. Ryan had gotten into his head and settled there and Geoff lowered the piece again, reconsidering.

“Not going well there,” Ryan said, and after the previous silence it felt like he was yelling, like the whole crowd could hear him, even if he was speaking so softly that it was probably only Geoff within earshot. “Need some help?”

“No,” Geoff snapped back furiously, and moved the piece anyway.

It opened a path for Ryan to slide his queen across the board, leaving her in a direct line to Geoff's king.

“Check,” he said, matter-of-factly. It was somehow worse than if he'd been smug.

Geoff's king was pinned in. There was only one row behind him he could move back to, and he could see immediately that Ryan's next move would be to slide a rook back and effectively trap the king between that and the queen. He had lost, and when he looked up and met Ryan's eyes he could tell the other man was relishing it.

“Fuck you, Ryan,” he muttered, and Ryan's lips twitched.

“Gracious as ever,” he replied drily, and Geoff scowled as he moved the queen back and Ryan immediately moved his rook.

“Checkmate,” he said, and Geoff slid his chair back from the table with a grating squeal that seemed deafening in the silence.

It felt like all the built up pressure had been released, but it wasn't a relief. If anything he just felt _sick_ , empty and hollow like he hadn't eaten in days. _Lost_ , was all he could think. _Lost, lost, lost_. The game. The crown. His fucking kingdom if he didn't _do something_ -

Why couldn't he _do something-_

Everything he _tried_ , he'd failed at. And there was Ryan, standing up now and holding out a hand to him as the crowd began to applaud. Geoff stood up and shook it, limply – hated how firm Ryan's grip was, his hand somehow cool and dry despite how sticky and sweaty everyone else seemed to be.

“Perhaps caring too much doesn't always work in our favour,” he began, and Geoff snatched his hand back and scowled.

“I don't need your fortune cookie bullshit right now,” he muttered, and Ryan just laughed. Geoff turned away, wrapping his arms around himself. His hands were shaking and he couldn't tell if it was from stress, or the drinks he'd had earlier – he hated it, hated how weak he felt. He could see Jack, standing at the front of the crowd, eyeing him with concern.

“We will take a short break,” Kerry was announcing – Ray and Michael had finished their game earlier, it seemed, and he could see from the board on the other table that Ray's white pieces had won. As soon as the words were out of Kerry's mouth Geoff turned on his heel and left the hall, needing to escape all the eyes that were on him.

 

* * *

 

The washroom down the hall was at least cooler, but it didn't make Geoff feel any better to splash water on his face and then look up into the glass and see his own red-rimmed, exhausted eyes staring back at him.

He was sick of this place.

He was sick of red lights and stone everywhere and fucking _Ryan_ lurking around every corner. He was sick of the pressure, and the games, and watching Ray and Michael hold hands and rub it in everyone's faces that they were allies. He was sick of _being here_ , longed to get back to the fresh air and sweet grass of the plains. Back to his own kingdom where he could take control of things again without worrying about this fucking crown.

His hands were shaking badly now as he tried to dry his face. He wasn't panicking, not quite, but he felt dizzy and nauseous still, and when someone rapped at the door he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“I'm busy,” he snapped.

“Geoff, let me in.” It was Jack, sounding as calm and reassuring as always, and Geoff closed his eyes briefly before moving to open the door.

Jack swept in and shut it behind him again immediately. He turned to Geoff and moved to take him by the shoulders, but Geoff shrugged him off.

“I'm fine,” he said curtly, before Jack could say anything. “I don't need your pity, I know I fucked up back there-”

“Ryan's a hard man to beat-”

“ _Stop it_. I don't need your fucking _pity_ , okay? I don't care if he's a hard man to beat. I _should have beaten_ him, I _need_ to do this. The whole kingdom is relying on me here and I... I just fucking threw all our chances away in these last two games.”

Jack was staring at him so patiently that Geoff could barely stand it.

“It's okay,” he said, and when Geoff opened his mouth to protest, he barrelled on. “ _It's okay_ , Geoff, we haven't completely lost yet. Get third place again here and then make up the difference in the archery. Michael has the most points right now but if you beat him, it won't matter. And Ryan didn't come first in the duels – we can still make up the points, okay?”

He said it so calmly that it seemed true, but Geoff could only keep shaking his head. All he could think was that he'd failed the other day, and he'd failed now, and he'd fuck it all up again in the archery, he knew, all his practice rounds had gone to shit.

“It doesn't matter,” he said, and turned away, gripping the edge of the basin. “It doesn't fucking matter, I've fucked it up now – we may as well go back home and try and sort things out there-”

“That's not the Geoff I know. You're not a quitter. Hey, come on, you need to pull yourself together and _do this_ , okay-”

He started to wrap his arms around Geoff again and Geoff squirmed, trying to shake him off, only for Jack to seize him and tug him close.

“Stop pushing me away,” he snapped, and there was something so abruptly angry and desperate in his voice that it made Geoff freeze. He twisted to look up at Jack and found his eyes burning, something furious – and _hurt –_ in his face. After a moment it softened.

“Just... don't push me away. Okay? I know this is hard but let me at least try and help. There's no sense in forcing yourself to do this alone.”

His voice was so soft, so kind, that Geoff couldn't help it. Some of the pent up stress in him burst and he sank into Jack's arms, burying his face in his shoulder, breaking down just a little. Jack squeezed him tightly, and even if it was still too hot and sticky to be hugging someone like this, Geoff couldn't bring himself to care. There was something so familiar and comforting about Jack – Jack, who had always been there, Jack who he trusted completely, Jack who always knew how to make things right – for so long Geoff'd had to put up a strong front, especially in the face of the barons who would pounce on any sign of weakness. Especially around _Ryan_.

But Jack was the only person he could let himself feel vulnerable around – well, and Gavin.

_Gavin_.

He hadn't seen him in the audience earlier. With a pang he thought of the fight they'd had this morning – Gavin had been pretty fucking unhelpful, sure, but in his own simple way Geoff could see he was only trying to help. He felt bad now, about yelling at him, but made an effort to push that into resolve.

_Prove him wrong. Make him proud. Show him you can do it._

They stood there for a moment longer. Didn't need to say anything – just held each other, Geoff relieved to finally let Jack back in – wasn't even sure himself why he'd pushed him away for so long, only that he'd been scared, and clinging to the last of his pride, and the thought of anyone seeing how weak he was would make it a reality (and Gavin had crashed right through all that, to Geoff's horror – it was why he'd lashed out-)

And things still weren't okay, he still wasn't quite calm, but by the time they pulled apart he was ready to have another shot at it.

 

* * *

 

Geoff looked around the room for Gavin as soon as they got back in. He hadn't seen him in here earlier, but it was a given that he'd attend. There was no way he wouldn't want to watch and see the outcome for himself.

Jack squeezed his arm and went back to his own spot, but Geoff could see him searching for the other man as well. When Jack finally relaxed, relieved, Geoff followed his gaze and felt better too when he caught sight of Gavin sitting at the very back of the room. He was right on the edge between where Geoff's delegation sat, and Ryan's, and no one else was with him – not even Dan.

Gavin was staring at the floor, but when he looked up eventually, he caught Geoff's eye. Geoff gave him a small smile, but the fool didn't return it, just looked away again. Geoff's confidence faltered a little, but he tried to ignore it.

_It's fine. Worry about that later._

It would've made him feel better to go up and talk to Gavin right away. But before he could, Kerry was calling for everyone to sit down again, and Geoff went over to the table where Michael was already standing.

“Was he bad?” Michael asked, and it took Geoff a second to realise he was talking about Ryan.

“He was fucking awful,” Geoff muttered. “Smug son of a bitch. It's practically cheating, the way he tries to mess with you while you're playing.”

"Damn it. Well, Ray can handle him,” Michael murmured, but he looked worried. Geoff couldn't blame him. He had no idea how good Ray was at chess but if the way Ryan had decimated _him_ was anything to go on, it wouldn't be an easy game.

It was Kerry who came up to them.

“Heads or tails?” he asked, and Michael motioned for Geoff to go first.

“Tails,” he replied, and Kerry tossed the coin. It landed tails and Geoff felt a silly surge of relief as he sat down on the white side of the table. He'd won both coin tosses, so luck was on his side, at least.

Michael sat down as well. He looked up and gave Geoff a small smile across the board, and Geoff was grateful enough to smile back. Even if Michael had beaten him badly in the duels, there was nothing malicious about the other man – not like with Ryan – and this was a more even playing field than the sword fighting had been.

_You can beat him at least,_ he thought, and took a deep breath before jumping a knight forward and starting the game.

 

* * *

 

Ryan knew that it took very little to rile Geoff up – a few snarky comments or even just a well timed facial expression would be enough to throw him off his game.

But Ray was different, not so easily needled, and so Ryan was compelled to instead spend the first half of the game playing in complete silence, hoping that, at least, would intimidate him. If Ray was nervous, he wasn't letting it show – he was a good opponent, and though Ryan was certain that he'd eventually win, he was relishing the challenge for now. Especially after how poorly Geoff had performed.

He finally spoke after a series of moves by Ray had pinned his queen in a position where no matter where she moved, Ray's next turn would capture her. It was obviously what he'd been playing for all game, and while it deprived Ryan of his strongest piece, Ray had also lost all his pawns as well as a knight, whereas Ryan hadn't lost any.

“Clever,” he said, and Ray glanced up, seeming a little surprised that he'd spoken at last. “But I don't need a queen to win.”

“This is all part of my cunning plan,” Ray replied, deadpan, and Ryan's smirk was genuinely amused.

“Clearly. But I can make another queen if I reach the end of the board, you realise? Whereas you've lost all your pawns.”

“We'll see,” Ray replied drily, although in his next turn he moved a rook back to the second-last row, keeping it clear so that he could kill any pawns Ryan might send his way.

“I have to say I'm impressed.” Now that the ice had been broken Ryan couldn't stop talking, pressing for any weak spot the way he always did in these conversational games. “Sacrifices aside, it's not often a prolonged strategy like that plays out so effectively in chess.”

“I'd say _thank you_ but I'm pretty sure you've got some sort of slow thing going on yourself and any second now you're going to put me in checkmate,” Ray muttered. For all his self deprecating humour, Ryan had noticed, he had sharp eyes and had foiled Ryan's own plans a few times.

“I do pride myself on thinking ahead. The foundation of any kingdom is committing to long term plans. I'm sure since you so recently inherited, you've been plunged a little into the deep end on those. Two years can be nothing in the scheme of these things.”

“Fucking microeconomic reform,” was Ray's eloquent response, startling another laugh from Ryan.

“Quite. I hope that now you and Michael will be working together so closely, you won't find your... _ambitions_ clashing.”

The mention of Michael had Ray stiffening. Just as Ryan had suspected – there was the weak point.

“If you're questioning what we'll do if we win the competition,” he said slowly, “I'm afraid you'll be disappointed when we don't get into a cat-fight over who gets to wear the crown. We've already discussed all that.”

“And suppose you don't win? Have you planned for that? Because I have.” And there was a thinly veiled threat in there, one Ryan had been hoping to expose all the other visiting kings to – a warning of sorts, no matter who won - “In fact I have prepared very, very carefully for the event that there might be a new Wild king. No matter what happens, the Stoneworld will be protected – and remain a force to be reckoned with, with or without a mob army.”

Ray was not stupid. He'd picked up that something else was going on here, and paused, looking up at Ryan quizzically. Ryan stared back, holding his gaze until he looked away, sufficiently warned if none the wiser.

“Okay,” he replied simply, and moved another piece, capturing one of Ryan's knights. It didn't matter; it was a sacrifice that allowed Ryan to move another bishop forward, slowly hemming in Ray's king while keeping his queen on the other side of the board.

“I suppose that your marriage _is_ your fallback should neither you nor Michael take the crown,” Ryan continued. “It was a bold move – I'll admit it surprised even me – but there is one problem.”

“Oh yes, pray share what the big problem with my engagement is,” Ray replied, but despite the sarcasm the topic seemed to have him uncomfortable; he looked up again, eyes wary rather than holding their previous implacable calm.

“Your plan relies on Michael,” Ryan said, and Ray's shoulders stiffened.

“I don't care,” he replied immediately. “I trust him.”

“For _now_ you trust him,” Ryan pointed out. “But the two of you are playing a dangerous game. A treaty, a formal alliance – that's something that can't be broken. But a _marriage_ , especially when the two of you are _friends_ – political strategies like that are slippery things. With an alliance, you remain in the sole command of your own country. But marriage will bind you two irrevocably together – there'll be expectations, then, among your people, that you will have some reign over Michael's land, and him over yours – it's not an easy thing to get out of without public opinion turning sour. So like I said – it was a bold move of you two to take the plunge like that. A marriage of convenience has a lot of flaws. If it was based on real feelings, things might be different.”

He said it slowly, deliberately – and sure enough, Ray's head snapped up, revealing everything Ryan wanted to know.

_So that's how it is_.

There was a piece of information that he might be able to use later on. He raised an eyebrow, eyes deliberately drifting over to where Michael sat at the opposite table, and annoyance flashed in Ray's eyes. He was angry now, and emotion didn't make for good chess playing.

“You don't know a damn thing about Michael and I's relationship,” he snapped, and Ryan realised vaguely that it was the first time the other man had seemed to properly _dislike_ him. “But we all know about you.”

“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah, you're going to die sad and alone in here,” Ray said, with such genuine, cold _certainty_ that the words made Ryan pause, “And no one will care. That's the only damn thing at the end of _your_ long term strategy, Ryan. Look around you. Your fucking tomb's already built and you're living in it.”

Ryan could shrug anything off with ease. It was simple, when people had been talking behind your back your whole life. They ran out of things to say that you hadn't heard before.

But Ray – Ray had wormed his way in somehow. Had _intrigued_ Ryan, just like Gavin had, with his self-deprecating humour and easy acceptance of everything the world threw at him – and what he said now struck a chord that Ryan had barely realised was there.

He might have grown up here but this lifeless stone fortress, the harsh redstone lights, the enormous dark shadow that the building cast over a huge portion of the city – that had never been home. Home had been the university back in the plains, the one brief period of his life where he was where he belonged. This place did feel like a tomb, heavy with the ghosts of his ancestors and all the mistakes they'd ever made.

His mother had died here.

“And maybe you pride yourself on not trusting anyone,” Ray continued, “But if you die in the Wild – or whenever – who will take your crown? Did you think of that?”

Ryan had no answer. It was rare that he couldn't think of a comeback. But now his shock, his _fear_ at what Ray was saying, rose up unpleasantly and he did the only thing he could think of – swallowed it down, turned it into cold fury, and made another move on the chessboard without answering.

Ray raised an eyebrow. But he was angry, too – and visibly, his hand shaking as he moved as well – both of them continued the match in a frosty silence.

 

* * *

 

Geoff was feeling rather good about himself as the game against Michael continued.

The other man had surprised him. For all his talk of being certain to lose, he apparently had been practicing, because they were evenly matched, both having lost a handful of pieces and with no one clearly in the lead. They'd played in silence, intently focused, and Geoff was glad that this opponent at least wasn't distracting him with snide comments.

He was carefully laying a trap that would force Michael to move his king towards the middle of the board, when a smattering of applause broke his concentration.

“The others finished,” Michael murmured, glancing across at the other table.

“Who won?” Geoff asked. His heart was pounding suddenly, his previous calm rattled. _Please Ray,_ he could only think. _Please the gods, let it be Ray..._

“I can't tell. They're sitting too far away. I think it must've been Ryan or Ray would be smiling more.” Michael frowned a little, disappointed, and Geoff bit his lip, still unable to not _hope_.

“Whereas Ryan would keep a totally straight face, smug bitch,” he muttered, and Michael barked out a laugh.

“I doubt many people have ever called the Stone King a _bitch_.”

“If I'd beaten him you'd all have known it. I'd've been dancing on the table screaming _suck my enormous cock_ at him.”

“Well now I'm even more disappointed you didn't win. Please don't do that to me, by the way,” Michael added, and Geoff huffed out a laugh. They fell into silence again, continuing their game – but Geoff was acutely aware that they were the only ones playing now, and every eye in the room was on them. He was too conscious of how loudly he was breathing, and every clink of a piece moving across the board seemed deafening.

One particular set of eyes was making the hair at the back of his neck stand on end, and when he could finally stand it no longer, he broke and glanced over at where Ryan and Ray were still sitting at their table.

Both of them were watching the game intently, probably straining to see the board from that distance. Ryan in particular was leaning forward, legs apart and hands clasped together between them. It was a position that had pulled his jacket open and Geoff's eyes were drawn to a glimmer of green against his shirt-

Only to freeze, horrified.

_Is that...?_

Gods. It couldn't be. _It couldn't –_ he stared harder, and Ryan, noticing that he was watching, leaned back in his seat again. The movement inadvertently brought it into full view before his jacket drew closed, and for a moment Geoff's mind went completely blank.

Gavin had been wearing that damn scarf every single day since Geoff had met him. No matter how hot it was, or what he was doing, he never took the fucking thing off except when he slept, or to wash it. Which meant that Geoff had been looking at that particular green and black pattern for literally five or six years straight, not to mention the fact that no one had ever been able to work out what the material was, which meant not only had he looked at it, he'd _studied it_ , closely.

There was no way he wouldn't be able to recognise it now.

Gods above. Ryan was wearing Gavin's scarf. Or a piece of it, anyway – and worse than that, he was wearing it as a _favour_. It was pinned right over his heart. And it _had_ to be Gavin's because no one _else_ had a scarf like that-

And Gavin treasured _his_ so closely that he would never let anyone else touch it. Let alone cut it. Gods, Geoff had never thought _Gavin_ would cut it _himself_ -

But there it was. Gavin had chopped a piece of his _damn scarf off and given it to Ryan as a favour_ and-

And-

And Geoff's mind was going into overdrive already. Anger. _Hurt_. Why? Why would Gavin do that? Why would he support Ryan like that – if he was going to give _anyone_ something so important, it should have been _Geoff_. Geoff who'd taken him in, who he was so close to – Geoff who Gavin had always stared at so adoringly, Gavin who was important to Geoff in turn-

_And Ryan_. Ryan, their mortal enemy – Ryan who Geoff had _told_ Gavin to stay away from. Ryan who'd been nothing but horrible to Geoff since he got here. Ryan who was their biggest rival – who Gavin should've been hoping would _lose_.

He didn't know what to think. Couldn't fathom _why,_ or what was going on here, only that a crippling shock and betrayal had taken over him.

“Geoff?” Michael said quietly, and he jerked, realising he'd completely zoned out. He turned back to the board, but his concentration had been broken, his previous anxiety flooding back in. He couldn't remember any of his plans, any of the strategies he'd been building up, and moved a piece at random only for Michael to frown.

“You can't move there.”

“Yes I can.”

“No... that's one square too far for a knight.”

“Fuck,” Geoff muttered, realising he was right. He corrected his move, but the stupidity of the mistake had rattled him, and after that everything went to shit.

Michael continued to take more and more of his pieces – before Geoff's eyes his own plan failed when he stupidly moved his rook into the path of a pawn and it was captured, ruining everything that he'd built up.

He lost his queen soon after, and it was all downhill from there. Before he knew it, he had only a king and two pawns left. His head was spinning – he could only move a square at a time – he tried to move one to the end of the board, but Michael easily captured it. It was a lost cause. Only a few moves later he lost the second pawn as well.

“Do you forfeit?” Michael asked. There was some sympathy in his eyes, even if he must be pleased he'd won.

Geoff clenched his jaw. Prolonging this misery would only be more humiliating.

“Yes,” he forced out, and Michael nodded and rose, holding out a hand. Geoff stood too and clasped it, but he could feel himself shaking. It hadn't quite sunk in yet, but it was slowly dawning on him.

He'd lost.

He'd come fucking _last_.

Third place in the duels, last place here – he had a meagre three points and he felt a strong wave of nausea suddenly, a roaring in his ears that drowned out the applause that had begun from the audience. Michael's previously silent group of warriors, who'd been watching the match in confusion with probably no idea what'd been going on, saw their leader's grin and broke out into raucous whooping. Every shout made pain spear through Geoff's head as he turned away, bumping ungracefully into the chair as he tried to get away from the table.

Ray had come up by Michael's side, beaming widely as he moved forward to embrace them. Geoff stood silently, watching them – the genuine tenderness in the way Michael pulled him close and hugged him fiercely.

_Gavin_ , he thought, and a burning anger started up in his stomach as he remembered the cause of all this. _What the fuck, Gavin – what the actual_ fuck _were you playing at?_

_Cost me the fucking game..._

Ryan had moved up, too, but Geoff couldn't even look at him. Stood staring angrily at one spot on the stone floor as the room fell silent once more.

“The second challenge of the games is over,” Kerry announced, his voice echoing through the hall. “The total points are now as follows: in final place, King Geoff, with three points. In third place, King Ray, with five points. In second place, King Michael, with thirteen points. And in first place, King Ryan, with fifteen points.”

Everyone's delegations applauded, save Geoff's, who sat there in a very awkward silence. He could feel the eyes of his courtiers on him, disappointed and _worried_ -

But what he couldn't handle was the fact that fucking _Ryan_ was in the lead, and hot anger flared through him again. It was an easier emotion to stomach than fear, at least right now, and he could see Jack staring at him worriedly. He had no idea what must be showing on his face as the people in the room began to split apart, heading for their respective leaders. Geoff could see Ryan approaching him, likely to gloat, but ignored him and hurried to Jack instead.

“What happened back there?” the other man cried. “It was going so well-”

“Where the fuck is Gavin,” Geoff hissed.

“What?”

“Where _is he_ , Jack,” Geoff snapped, and Jack blinked, eyes wide, before pointing towards the back of the room.

“He's over there,” he said. “I-”

Geoff didn't want for him to finish, turning and striding furiously towards where Gavin was. The second his eyes fell on that damnable scarf his fury rose up again; Gavin looked up at him, concern and something close to _pity_ in his eyes. Geoff couldn't stand it, and when Gavin got up from his seat and reached out to him, he cut in before the younger man could say anything.

“You. With me. _Now_.”

“What?” Gavin squawked, eyes wide, like he had no idea what was going on. Geoff scowled, infuriated by the show of obliviousness, and grabbed Gavin's arm, yanking him after him and drawing another startled yelp.

“Geoff, what's wrong-”

“You know exactly what's fucking wrong,” Geoff snapped. “Just shut the fuck up, Gavin, let's at least get out of here first.”

He hauled Gavin out of the room after him. As they left he noticed Ryan watching them with a frown. It only made him angrier to see the other man's obvious curiosity.

_What the_ fuck _has been going on here behind my back?_

 

* * *

 

When they reached the corridor where the bedchambers were, Gavin properly started protesting and pulling at his wrist. Geoff dragged him the last few metres down the hall and into his room, glad to be away from the staring eyes of Ryan's servants lurking in the shadows of the rest of the building.

“Let go of me,” Gavin said, only to stumble when Geoff pushed him into the room and slammed the door shut behind them. He rubbed his arm and straightened up, turning towards Geoff with wide eyes. “Geoff, what's going on here?”

Geoff took a moment to gather himself. He was so angry he could barely think straight, could feel it simmering under the surface of his skin, just waiting to burst out.

“I fucking lost, that's what's going on here,” he snapped.

Gavin continued to stare at him.

“I know,” he replied, then added, a bit annoyed, “Maybe you should've listened to me-”

Oh, gods. _I told you so_ was the last fucking thing Geoff needed to hear right now. It only riled him up further, and he took a furious step towards Gavin.

“I didn't think you were so fucking desperate to prove me wrong that you'd _sabotage_ me,” he spat.

Gavin blinked, taken aback.

“... _what_?” he asked finally, and Geoff scowled.

“Are you really that petty? You wanted me – you wanted our whole _kingdom_ – to lose just to prove a fucking point?”

“I didn't _want you to lose_ , Geoff, gods!” Gavin cried. “What the hell are you on about?”

“I _saw_ , Gavin.”

“Saw _what_?” Gavin cried, only to jerk back when Geoff marched over to him and grabbed his scarf, fumbling for the ends of it. Sure enough, there it was – a jagged, chopped-off edge that hadn't been there before – Gavin froze, and Geoff's own stomach sank at the proof of what'd happened.

There was a horrible silence, until Gavin swallowed hard.

“I...”

“I thought this was _so precious_ to you,” Geoff sneered. He yanked at the scarf and Gavin flinched before Geoff dropped it and turned away, shaking.

“But no, you'll hack a bit off to give to the Mad King. Bet he was overjoyed to have it, right? Bet he showed it off to me deliberately to throw me off during the match – was _that_ part of your plan?”

“What?” Gavin asked again, and shook his head. “No, you... you weren't meant to _see_ it-”

“Why?” Geoff demanded, whirling around on him again. “Because you knew it'd... it'd hurt, it'd _distract_ me-”

“I swear to the gods, Geoff, I never meant for you to see that!” Gavin cried. “That's... it's... it's not what it _looks like,_ okay? He wanted a piece to run tests on to find out what it was.”

“Sure,” Geoff shot back. “That's why it was pinned over his fucking _heart,_ right?”

“Geoff...”

Gavin moved towards him, hand reaching out to brush across his shoulder, but Geoff jerked away, flinching back from him.

“Don't fucking touch me, Gavin,” he spat – Gavin ignored him, reaching out again, and Geoff shoved him roughly away just as Jack opened the door and marched into the room.

“What's going on here?” he demanded.

“Ask him,” Geoff spat, shooting a glare at Gavin, who was staring at him, eyes huge, looking torn.

“Geoff,” he pleaded. “I had no idea you'd see it, that it'd distract you... but that's not the only reason you lost, come on, from the start you weren't playing well-”

“Fucking _hell_ , just shut the fuck _up_ ,” Geoff snarled, the burning humiliation of his loss to Ryan only adding to his anger. “Or don't. How about you explain to me exactly what's going on here? What, are you _friends_ with Ryan now?”

“No,” Gavin replied helplessly – Jack was staring between them, confused – and after a moment Gavin added, “But he's not as bad as you say.”

Not what Geoff wanted to hear. Not after the way Ryan had acted during the tournament.

“How'd you figure that?” Geoff snapped. “I thought I told you not to talk to him-”

“Well I _did_ , okay?” Gavin cut in, and suddenly _he_ was angry too, “He's been helping me find my parents! And he's not like you _say_ , he's not... he's not dishonourable. He's not cheating in the games – he could have, in the duels. He had a way to. But he didn't do it, he's not like that-”

“He's not fucking helping you do _anything_ ,” Geoff yelled. Dear gods, how long had this been going on – the two of them secretly meeting up, Ryan playing on Gavin's weak spot, Gavin disobeying Geoff's orders and going to him behind his back - “He's helping _himself_. There must be something he wants or why would the Mad King help _you_? Or he's using you to get to me and look, it _worked_. You _let_ him. Gods, I thought you were fucking smarter than that.”

Gavin just shook his head, scowling, and Jack stepped between them, looking confused as all hell.

“What's going on?” he asked again. “Geoff... what happened, Gavin-”

Geoff ignored him, stepping up to Gavin again, who stared back at him with a childish defiance, seeming determined to ignore everything he was saying.

“You gave that to him as a favour,” he snapped, “Didn't you?”

Gavin didn't answer, just stared back at him, and something snapped in him then, something small and hurt that still couldn't believe that it was Ryan, fucking _Ryan_ who had the most precious thing Gavin owned pinned over his heart.

“ _Didn't you_?” he yelled, and Gavin flinched back.

“Well _you_ didn't want my help,” he snapped, and Geoff flung his hands up.

“Fucking _hell_ , you are a _child_!” he cried, and turned away, breathing heavily.

He was so angry he could barely think.

Jack and Gavin were the people he trusted most in all the world. All this time he'd thought Gavin had his back, thought he was supporting him – and if it'd been anyone, anyone but _Ryan_ , he would have been fine. Angry, but fine. If it had been Michael Gavin gave some trinket to...

But Ryan.

_Ryan_.

“I can't fucking believe this,” he spat, not even looking at Gavin now. “Right now... right now I need your support more than ever and you go to _him_? You give _him_ something that you... that you _know_ means a lot to our people? You know how I feel about him and you fucking went and did it anyway – don't you care, even a little bit? Obviously fucking not. I should never have fucking brought you here, you haven't done a damn thing but make it worse-”

“ _I tried to help you_!” Gavin practically screamed, his voice shaking, “I _tried_ – you should have _listened_ to me-”

“You're the one who didn't listen to me!” Geoff roared, and marched over to him again, fists clenched trembling by his sides. “I warned you about Ryan! I told you he was dangerous!”

“He didn't ask for the favour,” Gavin spat back, and Geoff just shook his head.

“But I bet he's been _nice_ to you, hasn't he?” he said, and saw Gavin's mouth snap shut, his jaw clench. “I bet you _loved it_ when another king started paying attention to you. Big, scary Ryan who hates everyone – but oh, he went soft for _you_. I bet you fucking _believed it_.”

Gavin was shaking his head slowly, and Geoff felt a vindictive, twisted pleasure at showing him the truth. He hated himself for it.

“Didn't you ever think he was just winning you over so you would trust him? So you would do something like go to _him_ when you were pissed off at me – give him your favour so he could subtly, ' _accidentally_ ' show me and throw me off my game? You fucking fell for it, didn't you?”

“Stop it,” Gavin choked out.

“Stop _what_ ,” Geoff sneered. “I _warned you_ , I fucking _told you_ not to go near him! That's the sort of person Ryan _is_ , Gavin. He does things like that!”

“Stop shouting,” Jack began, but they both ignored him.

“I'm sorry, Geoff,” Gavin said, pained, “I didn't intend for you to see it. But you're also being a real asshole right now.”

“Oh, just shut the fuck up!” Geoff cried, sick of being chastised, sick of being humiliated-

“Geoff,” Jack warned.

Gavin was just staring at him, and Geoff found it hard to look at him; those intense green eyes, the face of the man he was so fond of, who he was used to seeing smiling at him, or laughing, or gazing at him like he was the sun – not like this, not twisted and upset with red-rimmed eyes.

“I wasn't trying to sabotage you,” he whispered, and Geoff bit his lip and turned away.

“No,” he snapped, voice raw. “You were just fucking _stupid_. And childish. And as usual just fucked everything up for me, just... look where we are now.” He threw a hand out, vaguely encompassing everything that had happened. “It's all gone so _wrong_ and guess what, Gavin? I don't know how to fucking fix this.”

The words rang out in the stone room, awful and seeming to suddenly make everything real. A deadening exhaustion seemed to drag him down as soon as he'd said them aloud.

“Just get out,” he said raggedly. “I can't look at you right now.”

“Geoff...” Jack began.

“Shut up, Jack.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Everything _hurt_.

He hated this. Hated being angry with Gavin, hated the raw sting of betrayal. There was nothing more upsetting than feeling bad about someone you normally... normally _loved_. He didn't like the way his heart had lurched when he saw Ryan with that favour, a favour that should have been _his_. He didn't like that even now Gavin shot him a miserable, helpless look before turning and leaving the room, didn't like the painful guilt that shot through his chest at the fact that _he'd_ put that look on the other man's face.

But he was hurt too because-

_Three fucking points._ He was in last place with no possible way to catch up.

It felt like he'd hit rock bottom, like he was sprawled with broken legs at the bottom of some dark, filthy pit with nowhere left to fall.

“Geoff!” Jack snapped when the door shut behind Gavin, something scolding in it.

“Don't even start,” Geoff said dully. He couldn't hear it, not right now – Jack opened his mouth but Geoff held up an exhausted hand and he fell silent, watching as Geoff trudged over to the drinks cabinet.

He poured himself a glass but his hand was shaking hard and he lowered it and paused, squeezing his eyes shut. His throat was burning, head pounding, and he could feel the tears welling up.

_Fuck_.

He didn't know what to do.

 

* * *

 

From his throne Ryan could see up into the top storeys of the fortress. He'd never used to like the way the castle was built; growing up there had been no privacy. His mother or father, if they were down here, could know constantly where he was. When he entered or left his room, or anyone else's – everything was open.

But he was glad for it now, because he could keep a close eye on the door to Geoff's chambers. When he saw a flash of green run out and into the stairwell, he rose, lips pressed tightly together as he headed off to where he knew those stairs led.

He found Gavin sitting on the steps leading out towards the training field, knees drawn up, huddled into himself. It was too humid for anyone to be outside today, so the place was quiet and empty. Still stinking hot even in the dark shadows of the stone walls around them.

Gavin didn't look up when Ryan approached, even when he came to stand right in front of him, head tilted as he looked down at him almost curiously. Trying to puzzle out why his own stomach clenched at the sight of someone _else_ upset.

“What's wrong?” he asked finally, and Gavin drew into himself a little more.

“Please not now, sire,” he began, voice muffled, but Ryan leaned in closer.

“What's _wrong_ , Gavin?”

Gavin jolted a little and Ryan realised it was one of the first times he'd ever addressed him by name rather than 'fool' or 'boy'. He looked up, finally. In his flushed face his eyes stood out bright like jewels, like enchantments, like a curse.

“Everything,” he cried, voice ragged. “I... _everything's_ wrong-”

He broke off abruptly, seeming to register just who it was in front of him, and Ryan could see him pull away again.

“It doesn't matter.”

“Is this about Geoff losing?” Ryan demanded – even his own vindictive satisfaction at Geoff in last place had been soured a little by the knowledge that it would only make Geoff's political problems worse – and men with too much to lose made the most dangerous enemies. Even he didn't want that for Geoff – though he would still look out for his own interests first.

At the mention of Geoff losing, Gavin shot him such a poisonous glare that it took Ryan aback. And then made him uncomfortable, in a way others' stares and anger never had before.

“What?” he demanded. “You wish I had thrown the game so that he might win?”

“I know what you did,” Gavin said curtly, and Ryan stared at him.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes you do!”

“No,” Ryan replied firmly, “I don't.”

"You showed him deliberately.” Gavin tugged at his scarf, wrapping it tighter around him, and it hit Ryan suddenly – _oh_ \- no wonder Geoff had been furious.

“He saw the favour,” he said slowly, and Gavin nodded angrily. Ryan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He'd had no intention of Geoff seeing it but he must've caught a glimpse somehow.

“Gavin,” he said quietly. “I did not show him deliberately.”

“I don't believe you,” Gavin replied, staring up at him again.

Ryan wasn't sure why that hurt. And for all the talk of him having a silver tongue, when it came to this – when it came to him wanting someone to believe him not for some advantage or gain but just _because_ – he had no idea what to do except sigh. It was clear what Geoff must think, how angry he must be if he thought Gavin had deliberately asked Ryan to make him lose the games. The man had a hot temper and was under so much stress already.

“He blames you for my errors,” he said, something close to sympathy in his voice. “Poor little fool.”

Gavin turned away from him and buried his face in his knees, arms rising to cover his head. Like a child, hiding away from the world around him. There was too much going on here, Ryan noted absently, beyond even the games. Geoff's troubles. Geoff's troubles with Jack and _Gavin_. Whatever was between Michael and Ray.

And himself, and this man in front of him, and how even now he reached out and carefully ran his fingers over Gavin's wrist where he'd seen Geoff grab him earlier. It was the first time he'd touched someone gently in years and it felt like when he'd first stroked the material of Gavin's strange scarf; something tingling and exciting and  _new_.

At least until Gavin recoiled, pulling his arm away and staring up at Ryan in confusion.

“Did he hurt you?” Ryan asked, surprising himself with his own fierceness.

“No,” Gavin replied, immediately.

Ryan tilted his head.

“Perhaps not like that. Did he _hurt_ you?” he repeated, because there was something worn down and miserable about the other man that didn't suit what Ryan knew of him. Gavin looked away.

“I hurt him,” he replied, and there was a soft guilt in his voice that made Ryan pause.

This was a messy, domestic sort of situation and the kind of thing that he usually wanted to avoid being entangled in. But he'd gotten himself into this the second he'd accepted Gavin's favour. At some level he must have known what role he was taking on, because Geoff and Gavin were close, too close, yet he'd thought little of stepping right in the middle of things.

It had been petty of Gavin. Even he could see that. But he could hardly blame him – emotions did things to people like that. And even he had done his fair share of cruelties to Geoff in some little vengeance for all the things he resented him for.

“It's not entirely your fault. If Geoff took better care of his things,” he reasoned, “He wouldn't have to worry about situations like this happening.”

Gavin stiffened. He lifted his head and looked up at Ryan and said, with an odd fierceness, “I'm not anyone's thing.”

Ryan looked at him carefully.

“No,” he mused. “You're not, are you?”

He thought of Gavin's easy juggling, the way he'd seen him flipping around and doing acrobatic tricks in the courtyard with some of the soldiers the other day – Gavin, laughing and smiling with Michael who he'd only known two days, but saving his softest fondness for the older Jack and Geoff – Gavin, down in the lab, speaking excitedly of science, the tentative curiosity whenever he asked a question and how his eyes lit up when Ryan took the time to answer.

Gavin who _intrigued_ him the way no one else ever had, who seemed to personify the wildness and freedom that Ryan had always longed for in his youth.

He reached out again and settled a hand in Gavin's hair – touching him almost curiously, like a child feeling velvet for the first time. Something careful and uncharacteristically tentative in it. After a moment his fingers trailed down to cup Gavin's cheek, then rest gently on his shoulder – he felt Gavin shiver even as his eyes closed and he leaned into Ryan's touch unconsciously. It felt strange and new to Ryan, too. The tenderness of it all.

_Orphan boy_ , he thought absently. _Circus boy_. Who had loved him before Geoff? _Lost little witchy-boy._

Maybe he should have been concerned by how deep he'd fallen. How even now he disliked seeing Gavin upset – wanted to comfort him, to make him smile again, felt bad for his own accidental role in causing this. But he couldn't bring himself to stop, even if it went against everything he'd done for years – the distance he'd built up to keep himself safe, his position secure. With Gavin it felt different.

He'd seen the adoration and admiration that the other man looked at Geoff with. It made sense – wouldn't you love someone who brought you from the commons to the court – wouldn't anyone relish the attention of a king? But it wasn't just that. The playful way they joked around each other, the lack of propriety – it was obvious that Gavin wasn't looking to _get_ anything from Geoff. It was as though the two of them were on an equal level, and it was clear that it was only because of that that Gavin liked – _loved_ – Geoff so deeply. Why else would he have been so angry with him the other day? That friendship – that potential for more...

_If Geoff won't keep it,_ Ryan thought, with a childish darkness, _I will have it_.

He held out a hand to Gavin, who opened his eyes when Ryan stopped touching him, looking confused.

“Come with me,” Ryan said, and Gavin hesitated. Ryan could see it – that Geoff must've said something to him, that he was wary to be as open with Ryan as he had before – it made him feel something he hadn't in a long time. _Disappointed._

“I didn't do it deliberately, Gavin. I promise,” he said. And then, when he saw Gavin falter, “This isn't an order. Come with me. Please?”

The word felt foreign; he hadn't used it in so long. He'd forgotten that it could be nice, being given things because people _wanted_ you to have them. Not because you were the king and you'd asked for it.

Gavin let out a slow breath. The caution in his eyes softened into something tireder, sadder – and more open than even Ryan had seen from him yet. If his own callousness was a mask, and Ray's nonchalance, it seemed keeping up a smile was much a chore for the clown.

But it was gone now, both of their walls down, and he grasped Ryan's hand and rose and followed him inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to graveexcitement for this [super cute fanart of Gavin and Ryan <3](http://whalehuntingboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/141478020339/graveexcitement-there-was-no-way-someone-like)


	7. Chapter 7

Between the staircase and taking Gavin up to his chambers, a funny sort of excitement built up in Ryan's chest. He felt like a child again – the night before a big feast, or the first time he'd gone to visit Geoff in the plains, giddy at the thought of meeting another prince his age. Perhaps it was undignified, foolish even. But he couldn't help it.

This entire trip he'd seen the others going in and out of each others' rooms. Michael and Ray together, of course. But Jack and Gavin constantly slipping into Geoff's as well. He'd told himself he didn't care – why should he bother about the connections, the relationships, forming between everyone else – he wasn't lonely.

But now it was his turn, and it was a long time since anyone had been to his rooms save the cleaning staff, and he was very aware of Gavin's warm hand in his, following easily after him.

When Gavin realised what door they'd stopped at, he stiffened.

“King Ryan...”

“Just Ryan, in here,” Ryan replied, and felt another little thrill as he said it. Like a boy rebelling for the first time; like he was playing make-believe at being Geoff or Michael. Standing in their shoes, seeing how it felt to let someone in.

Breaking all his own rules.

It felt good. He laughed at Gavin when the other man's eyes widened in surprise, and ushered him into the room.

Ryan's chambers were quite sparse, but in a way that came across as simple rather than the barrenness of the rest of the fortress. An enormous map of the five kingdoms hung on one wall, a tapestry on the other depicting a faceless figure with hand outstretched touching a wall of stone. Crimson was spreading from its fingertips, turning the grey closest to it red. Aside from that, the walls were lined with overflowing bookshelves, and a few small trinkets lay about. Little else, save the big window overlooking the city.

Gavin was standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking more unsure of himself than Ryan had ever seen him. Ryan left him to get his bearings, walking over to where some bottles of wine were kept over a mock-fireplace that contained a redstone slab rather than logs or fuel. When he turned back to Gavin he'd inched deeper into the room, and despite himself was looking around curiously, examining the books on the shelves and then pulling a face as he gingerly picked up a blackened skull that had been serving as a bookend.

“That's not someone I murdered, don't worry,” Ryan said, and Gavin jumped, fumbling not to drop it as he placed it back on the shelf. “It's a draugr skull. They wander in from the Wild often.”

“My lord...”

“Ryan,” Ryan corrected again; it gave him the same jolt to say it a second time.

“Ryan,” Gavin replied, and Ryan smiled a little - “What are we doing in here?”

“Where better to talk without people bothering us?” Ryan pointed out. Even he didn't quite know what he was doing except that everything felt _new_ and _daring_ and he couldn't quite help wanting to push further. See how far he might let himself go.

Gavin chewed at his lip. After a moment he glanced over at the bed and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don't...” he trailed off nervously and Ryan blinked a few times as he realised what he was implying.

Dear gods; that wasn't why he'd brought Gavin in here. Even during the slow slide of realising he was far too interested in the other man, the thought hadn't so much as crossed his mind. Of course, now it _was_ there, and Gavin was certainly an attractive man, but Ryan had far more on his mind than base pleasures. It was deeper things that tested his control.

“That is not why you're here,” he replied – Gavin looked relieved, and Ryan motioned towards the door. “You can leave whenever you want.”

Gavin glanced at the door and Ryan's chest tightened. He didn't like to think of how disappointed he'd be if Gavin did go. Walking across the room, he sat down on one of the luxurious chairs in front of the furnace. Put two goblets of wine on the low table between them and gestured at the other chair.

“Or you can sit with me, if you like.”

Gavin bit his lip again. Ryan watched him, patiently, and after a moment whatever Gavin saw in his face had him crossing the room and sitting down. Ryan offered him a cup and he took it, cradling it in his hands – still nervous for a moment before he seemed to think _fuck it_ and started drinking. Ryan settled back in his own chair, and as the silence became something close to companionable, Gavin's tension melted away.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked finally, setting his empty cup down.

Ryan stirred.

“I can be nice,” he said. Gavin pulled a face, and Ryan glanced over at him, a little amused. “And here I thought you didn't believe the stories about me.”

Gavin pressed his lips together before looking away, toying with the jagged edge of his scarf where he'd cut it. Ryan watched him, the mesmerising movements of the fabric twisting between his fingers.

“Are you scared?” he asked, and Gavin looked up at him.

“No,” he replied. It wasn't a lie.

“I could kill you in here right now,” Ryan said. “That's what people would expect from the Mad King, right? Get rid of you and Geoff will be distracted the rest of the games. There could have been poison in that cup. I could dispose of you silently. No one would know.”

Gavin stared at him. He still didn't look scared, just rather appalled.

“Why the fuck would you tell me that?” he demanded, and Ryan laughed.

“I don't know,” he admitted.

“You realise why people think you're creepy,” Gavin continued indignantly, and Ryan laughed again.

“I'm just saying. You came here anyway.”

“Because why would you kill me?” Gavin protested. “I haven't done anything to you! You have no _acceptable reason_.”

Ryan smiled a little, remembering their last conversation down in the lab.

“True,” he replied, and Gavin turned away.

“ _I_ could kill _you_ ,” he muttered, rather grumpily.

“No, you couldn't,” Ryan said.

“Why?”

“I'm stronger than you,” Ryan pointed out, “And better with a sword. Not to mention you said you'd never killed anyone before. You said you couldn't.”

“Maybe I lied,” Gavin said, and Ryan shook his head, smirking.

“No... I don't think you're very good at lying.”

Gavin pouted, but after a moment it faded away into something tired and upset again.

“No one thinks I'm good at anything,” he murmured, and there was something so bitter in it that it made Ryan ache.

“Why were you angry with Geoff?” he asked, quietly.

Gavin reached up and scrubbed his hands over his face before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I tried to help him with the chess. I knew he wouldn't play well so I told him he should put me in instead. I could have done it! But he wouldn't listen. He thinks I'm stupid,” he added – Ryan opened his mouth, but Gavin cut in, passionately, “Don't tell me he doesn't! I know that's what people say, that's what _he_ says – that he _knows_ I'm not really, not the way I put it on. That Jack knows. That I play it up, all the joking around. And yes, they know I'm not as stupid as _that_ , but... they still don't think I can do anything. They still see me as just some dumb circus kid. And it's _worse_ coming from them because they don't even realise it and they-”

He broke off, voice breaking a little. Once Ryan would have been indifferent to anyone else's problems. But now he didn't bother to hide the softness in his face as he nodded, understandingly.

“It's hardest when the people we care about aren't able to see us for what we are,” he replied. “What we want them to see.”

“Yes,” Gavin cried, and clenched his fists. When Ryan continued to watch him encouragingly, he launched into another rant.

“It just – it makes me feel so bloody useless. And now more than ever it's like I don't belong here. All these kings... and Jack grew up in court... everyone knows what they're doing here, except me. And it never mattered before, back in the plains. What I did there for Geoff, the company I provided him with – it was useful, he _needed_ me. But now I feel like a liability. I fucked everything up for him by giving you that favour.”

“That was not your fault,” Ryan said, quietly.

“Yes it was,” Gavin replied firmly. “It was _stupid_ of me, just because I was angry-”

“I accepted it,” Ryan pointed out. “I accidentally showed it to him.”

Gavin shook his head.

“I shouldn't have given it to you,” he cried. “If anyone deserved a favour from me it was Geoff because I...”

He trailed off, swallowing hard. Ryan couldn't help the faint resentment at Gavin's regret. He had liked the favour, probably too much. It had been nice to receive it. And he couldn't help but think, a little sourly, of how Geoff had rebuffed all the affection Gavin showed him back during the sword fighting.

But he didn't let that show, just waited patiently as Gavin gathered himself to continue.

“He took me in,” Gavin said finally – his voice hushed and too-fast, like this was all some secret. “For the first time someone _cared_ about me and... it might not seem like it now, because he's so worried about getting this crown, but back home Geoff is amazing. He's everything I want to be, the... the way he treats people, the way he sees himself and handles his power. And the things we've done together – the times when we'd sneak out into the city and he'd cover himself so no one knew he was the king, and it was just the _two_ of us, drinking or going to a festival together or just sitting out all night looking at the stars. Nothing else mattered then. Sometimes when he looks at me I think... I _hope_...”

“You love him,” Ryan murmured, and Gavin closed his eyes for a long moment.

“The problem,” he said slowly, “Is that no one ever says that out loud. And Jack, too, I... the two of them are so close and he's just always been there. Jack and Geoff, together – it's hard to think about one without the other. And I know people think Jack's dull when he's talking in court because he just goes on about economics all the time, but I've never seen someone _care_ as much as he does. He makes you feel safe, you know? Feel like you matter. And when he's not working... being able to make him laugh is just the greatest thing.”

Ryan watched him intently, nodding now and then. Outwardly calm even if he was sucking the words in like a starving man, this vibrant picture Gavin was painting – almost living it through him.

“The three of us,” he continued. “It's... different, it's special. Geoff doesn't have to be king, and Jack doesn't have to put on his court face, and I'm not just the idiot dancing in the corner. It's hard to explain. I _can't_ explain it. I thought the two of them were together at first, but they aren't. And we joke, the three of us, but sometimes it seems like it's _not_ a joke and... Geoff will look at me, or touch me, and I think-”

He broke off, throwing his hands up.

“And then I look at _Jack_ and I'm not sure suddenly because it's _both_ of them, it's both...”

He trailed off into silence, reaching to pour himself more wine.

Ryan had been listening with a funny sort of longing building up in his chest. Feelings about Geoff aside, he remembered _Jack_. How much he'd liked the man just at first meeting. Maybe a lot of people wouldn't think much of him – he certainly didn't have as much of a presence as loud Michael, or Geoff – but Ryan had been drawn to him, and listening to Gavin say all of this now reminded him of it.

Just a few days ago he would have been thinking of a way to use all these revelations against Geoff's team. Now the thought barely crossed his mind – there was no way Geoff could win the games at this point, anyhow.

“It's stupid of me, anyway,” Gavin muttered finally. “We always want what we can't have, right?”

“I wouldn't say that,” Ryan replied. He reached out on impulse – something awkward in it, like he was following a script, a stage direction – and put a hand over Gavin's on the table. The other man stiffened, but Ryan continued to stare steadily at him. It was funny, that little act of comfort that he'd never shown anyone before – that no one had ever shown him. He felt like he was copying the characters he'd seen in players' performances.

Gavin was staring up at him with wide eyes. He didn't pull away, and Ryan continued, calmly.

“From an outside perspective, even I can see that they love you. Why else would Geoff have been so hurt by you giving me the favour?”

“True,” Gavin muttered, but didn't sound convinced. It was stupid, Ryan couldn't help but think, of Geoff and Jack not to be explicit about their feelings if they were interested in Gavin. For someone who had grown up alone, with no one to care about him, of course he wouldn't be confident just blindly trusting in something unspoken. Even Ryan could see that.

He was tempted to criticise them out loud, but in a remarkable act of self restraint, he realised that was probably not what Gavin wanted to hear right now, and instead squeezed his hand.

“You are in a hard position,” he said, sympathetically. “It is difficult for kings to say how they feel.”

“He shows Jack well enough,” Gavin murmured. “If he will fall for anyone it's him.”

“Why not both of you?” Ryan pointed out. “After all, you love both of _them_.”

It appeared that, somehow, this realisation had never come to Gavin before. His eyes widened for a moment, but he bit his lip a second later, looking tired and resigned again.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “I've pissed him off now. And you were right, you know? About him picking the crown over me. He's so worried about winning that he doesn't care about me finding my family.”

“I take no satisfaction in it,” Ryan said, honestly.

“I don't know. I know it's not a good time right now. Maybe I'm just being selfish.”

“It's important to you,” Ryan replied. “That's not selfish.”

Gavin shifted in his seat and Ryan pulled his hand back.

“You told me it was stupid,” Gavin said. “That our past and our parents don't matter.”

“I suppose I did,” Ryan replied – it felt so long ago, that first conversation they'd had – it felt like he'd known Gavin far longer than just these few days. “Maybe I'm not always right. Something that Geoff needs to learn to admit,” he added, and was pleased when Gavin huffed out a laugh.

Still – it was stuck in his head a little. _Our parents don't matter_. After a moment he rose and walked to the window, staring out over the city. It was still oppressively humid and he could practically see the heat rising from the stone buildings. There were bright clouds building on the horizon; the glare off them hurt to look at. There would be a storm later, he thought.

After a moment Gavin came up next to him. Ryan shifted over, making room for him to see out.

“Some of the redstone in this city is centuries old,” he said. “Created by the touch of my ancestors. Some of it was placed there by my mother. Some of it by me.”

“What's that?” Gavin asked, pointing – Ryan followed his gaze. “You're building something?”

“Expanding the city,” Ryan replied. “There is too much shadow in this part. It blocks the sunlight so it's bad for the greenhouses. It used to be difficult to build outwards because of the wall. We need it to keep mobs out but it's so large that adding to it takes a lot of time and energy. But soon we won't need to worry about that.”

“Because you'll win the crown?”

“Even if I don't, I'm developing... fallback plans,” Ryan said. Gavin looked intrigued, but was quickly distracted watching people in the streets below. Ryan stared at him instead – even without his usual exuberant energy seeping from every pore, there was something magnetic about him. Ryan hadn't paid it much attention before. But Gavin looked good, in the golden light of the afternoon sun streaming through the window.

He lifted a hand and experimentally rested it against Gavin's lower back. The other man jumped a little, but didn't pull away – he looked up at Ryan, surprised, then gave a smile that was close to shy.

“I have meetings to go to,” Ryan said. The thought of going to sit with his sour, conniving courtiers for an hour felt particularly repulsive after this – after _Gavin_ – but Gavin just nodded understandingly.

“It made me feel better to talk to someone,” he replied, and ducked his head. “Thank you, Ryan.”

Another little thrill at the way the other's voice wrapped around his name. He pointed at Gavin, a playful warning in it.

“Only in this room,” he said, mock-stern. “Or in the lab.”

Gavin just grinned, so brightly that it made Ryan want to let loose and properly grin back. He stepped away from the window and watched Gavin leave, already thinking about when they might run into each other again.

It had been a while since he looked forward to something. Aside from hoping for success in his experiments, developing plans for his kingdom – those were all related to work. Even these games had taken place with a sense of trepidation rather than excitement.

With Gavin he'd dipped his toe in the water – brought down some of the barriers he'd so painstakingly built up _–_ but here, now, he wanted to take the plunge, to dive right in. It was addictive, almost scarily so, breaking every rule he'd set up for himself. _Don't get close. Stay in control_. _Everyone, everything, could turn against you, could ruin everything._

He couldn't bring himself to care.

 

* * *

 

“You wanted to talk?” Ray said, tentatively.

Michael lowered his bow and turned to look at him. After the chess Ray had been swept away by his advisors, and he hadn't had a chance to speak with Michael. Part of him had wanted to avoid the other man and whatever conversation was coming, but in the end waiting had been even more excruciating than just getting it over and done with.

And here they were, in the empty archery range. Ray's gaze flickered over to the target; Michael had hit most close to or on the bullseye. They had a good chance of doing well in the final game.

“Yes,” Michael replied, walking over to him. Ray shifted, crossing then uncrossing his arms, trying to hide his nervousness.

He'd been avoiding Michael since that little incident in the other man's chambers. He hadn't meant to kiss Michael- okay, that had been a lie. It had been impulsive, but some stupid, _stupid_ part of himself had thought-

_Had thought-_

He didn't know. They'd just been so _close_ , and Michael was looking at him so softly, and it had felt like it might be the right time. Like maybe Michael had realised his own feelings for Ray. Like maybe that would be the start of something new.

And then it _wasn't_ , and that had been devastating, and part of him was worried that here and now Michael was about to break this whole thing off-

(And an even more treacherous part of him still _hoped_ , stupidly, that Michael had gone off and thought and _realised_ and was here and now going to tell Ray that he felt the same way-)

He kicked himself, keeping his face blank as he looked up and forced a smile for Michael.

“Good job getting third,” he said, and Michael's face lit up with a grin.

“It was close for a while there! I honestly thought Geoff was going to win. Then, I don't know – I guess the pressure got to him. Lucky for us.”

“Lucky for us,” Ray repeated softly, and Michael moved to sit on a bench by the side of the range, motioning for Ray to sit next to him. He did so hesitantly – Michael's own smile had faded now, and there was a long moment of silence before he finally spoke again.

“Back in my room, the other day,” he began – Ray stiffened – “You ran out so quickly. What happened? You got upset-”

“I didn't get upset,” Ray cut in. His heart was pounding because Michael was staring at him, intently now, and he didn't know how much the other man had figured out. As much as he loved Michael, he could be pretty fucking oblivious at times. He wasn't sure if he wanted him to know or not. Some small part of himself still hoping that it was _Michael_ about to confess his feelings.

But Michael just blinked at him.

“Okay,” he said, and gestured awkwardly between them. “So this... this marriage thing... this is forever, right?”

“That's the idea,” Ray replied, his mouth suddenly very dry. “ _'Til death do us part_ and all fucking that. Why? Are you having second thoughts?”

Michael shook his head furiously.

“No! Just – I was thinking about what you said, about us being the only people for each other now, and I guess... are you okay with that?”

“With what?” Ray demanded, still unsure where this was going, even if all he could rather hysterically think was _I am much more than fucking okay with that-_

“With not ever being able to be with anyone else,” Michael said, and swallowed before adding, “Because we need rules. Like, what if you find someone or... or I find someone-”

It felt like being punched in the stomach. It was a struggle to keep his face straight, and for a long moment Ray just stared at Michael blankly, even if internally it felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him in the gut.

_So much for him being about to confess his feelings_ , he thought, and wanted to _laugh_ suddenly, or slap himself in the fucking face. _Stupid. Stupid!_

“Rules,” he managed finally. “Right. Like... you're allowed to have someone on the side.”

“I mean, if the situation happens,” Michael replied. It was unlike him to sound so awkward, Ray thought – normally he went about conversations the same way he did everything else; barging right in with no regrets. But he was fidgeting where he sat now, and Ray couldn't figure out _why_ unless-

_Unless there's already someone else_.

“Oh my fucking gods,” he said. “Are you... are you asking my permission to have a paramour?”

“I mean-”

“I can't stop you fucking other people if that's what you think you need,” Ray snapped. “But keep it fucking discreet, Michael, because _people will talk_. We're getting fucking _married_. It's not just a game. If the public finds out, they'll think it's a threat to our relationship, to our _alliance_ -”

“You're getting angry,” Michael observed.

“I'm not angry!”

“See, this isn't what I want,” Michael said, throwing his hands up. “You don't like the idea.”

“I don't fucking care,” Ray cried, even if he stood up from the bench and wrapped his arms around himself. “You can do whatever you fucking want-”

“Not if it _upsets_ you, Ray – that's why we need to _talk_ about this, make sure we're both okay with it-”

“Why should I care?” Ray challenged, and Michael's mouth snapped shut. “I'm just warning you that if you want to do that, it could cause trouble for us. And the political side we can deal with, sure, but it will be hard for _you_ to know that you can't publicly be with someone else once you've already married me. So just keep that in mind if you... if you go off and start something. The way I see it, this marriage is still the best thing we can do for our kingdoms. It makes us strong. But we don't always think with our brains. You can think with your heart as well – or your dick – and when those three things are pointing in all different directions, that's when you start having a problem!”

Michael spluttered.

“My dick's not pointing any direction!” he cried, that apparently being the part of the conversation he'd latched onto, and Ray couldn't help it; his hurt rising up into anger – before he knew it he was blurting out:

“Yeah? 'cause you seem pretty fucking interested in Geoff's fool!”

Michael's mouth dropped open. There was a frozen pause.

“ _Gavin_?” he burst out finally.

“Yes,” Ray hissed back, “Is that what all this is about? Are you asking my permission to-”

“I'm not asking your fucking permission to do _anything,_ Ray! Gods, where is this _coming_ from?”

“I don't know, maybe the fact that you haven't shut up about him since you got here?” Ray snapped. “What is it, Michael? You fall in love with someone in three days, is that all it takes? Because if so you are going to have a _big_ fucking problem once we get married-”

“I'm not in love with _anyone_ -”

“Three days! Three days and you trust him completely, you let him call you by name, you go out into the city with him all day-”

“Gavin has nothing to do with _any of this_ ,” Michael cried, but his face was red and Ray felt like he was suffocating, like his lungs were filling with water, overflowing, like it was about to all come bursting out-

“Just go fuck him already and get it out of your system-”

“He's in love with Geoff, okay?” Michael yelled, and Ray's mouth snapped shut, every word dying on his tongue. He stared at Michael, who was breathing heavily, looking up at Ray with a mixture of hurt, confusion, and no small measure of annoyance.

“He's in love with Geoff,” he repeated, softer, “And I don't know where you got the idea that _I_ was interested in him, but it doesn't matter, either way.”

Ray swallowed, hard. He felt too hot suddenly, like he was burning up from the inside, and it was hard to breathe. With a detached sense of horror he realised he'd overreacted – that he'd given too much away – that he'd gone too far to go back now.

“What about you?” Michael pressed, and when he stood up Ray couldn't help taking a step back. “I'm asking all this because I'm concerned about you, what _you_ want – you know that, right?”

Ray just stared at him, fighting not to let anything show on his face.

“What if _you_ find someone?” Michael continued.

“I won't,” Ray snapped. “So this doesn't concern me.”

“It _does_ ,” Michael insisted. “You say that now but what if in a few years' time you're the one who finds someone perfect for you-”

He could barely meet Michael's eyes. Michael, who he'd known his whole life. Michael, who was the only person he really liked spending time with, the only one who'd ever properly understood him. Michael, who _was_ perfect for him, in every way-

“I mean it,” Michael was continuing, “Dick, heart, brain, all pointing in one direction-”

“It's not going to happen,” Ray said, but it was so hard, so _hard_ to keep it in, to hear Michael continue to prattle on obliviously-

“You can't rule it out!” Michael cried. “Once you have someone like that-”

“ _I already do_!”

The second the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Michael had fallen silent – so silent that you could have heard a pin drop in the room. Ray was pretty sure neither of them was breathing.

And he could see it – the dawning realisation in Michael's eyes – suddenly the full impact of what he'd just said hit him.

_Oh gods. Oh my gods, what did –_ why _did-_

He thought he might throw up. His stomach was twisting itself into painful knots.

“Ray...”

Michael's voice was too quiet. Too soft and unsure of itself, and that wasn't _him_ , that wasn't the Michael Ray knew and loved – loud and brash and _always sure_ and if he sounded like that now it was clearly obvious-

_He doesn't feel the same way_.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Michael reached towards him and he flinched back. Clenched his fists. His hands felt hot, so hot they were nearly burning.

“Ray... you're bleeding,” Michael said, and Ray startled, looking down. He opened his hands and felt sick as he realised twisted strings of brambles had materialised in his palms. He'd been squeezing them, the thorns digging into his flesh hard enough to draw blood – he hadn't even felt it. He called on his gift and the plants shrivelled and died, crumbling into dust before their eyes. _Now_ it hurt. His fingers felt sticky and sore.

He swallowed. Took a deep breath. Wrestled his face into something blank.

“Clearly,” he began – it came out a hoarse croak, and he cleared his throat a few times - “Clearly this will not be a problem for me. So it's you who needs to think about what you want.”

Michael just stared at him. Ray took a shaky breath and turned to leave, but Michael reached out and caught his wrist.

“Ray, you can't just-”

“I can't _what_ ,” Ray demanded, yanking his arm away.

Michael appeared lost for words. And Ray hated it, suddenly – hated to see him floundering like that. Like a fool, he thought, too bitterly. _Stupid, stupid – how could he never_ see _? How could he never realise?_

_How could he ask_ me _to marry him and then be the one to second guess the plan_?

A wave of intense, irrational anger shot through him. He was shaking, he realised vaguely. He needed to get out of here. He turned back to the door – shook Michael off when the other man grabbed for his sleeve again – and marched out, not looking back, even when he heard Michael call his name after him.

 

* * *

 

Jack watched Geoff knock back one drink, then two – but stopped him at the third, moving forward and taking the bottle firmly from his hand. Geoff glowered at him, but there was a dull exhaustion in his eyes and he didn't bother to protest, walking over to the bed and throwing himself down on it face first.

Jack pressed his lips together before pouring himself a cup, letting Geoff have a few moments to sort himself out.

It had been a bad day for their entire delegation.

With only three points, there was no way that they could catch up to Ryan. The crown was effectively out of their hands – Michael was the only one who might beat him at this point, or if Ryan came last in the archery, Ray might be able to make a draw.

But the plains would not be getting the crown. It was a mathematical certainty and it was sinking in, now, that they'd come all this way for nothing. That they'd return home empty-handed to an unimpressed court.

_We'll deal with it._ They would – but for now it was devastating, and he was even _more_ concerned about how Geoff had blown up at Gavin.

When the silence had dragged on long enough, he walked over and sat next to Geoff on the bed, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Geoff jolted.

“Talk to me,” Jack said softly.

“You've heard all I have to say,” Geoff replied, voice muffled into the bedcovers.

Jack waited, patiently, and finally Geoff rolled over. His eyes were red and it made Jack ache to see how upset he looked, how there was a break in his voice as he continued:

“He gave a favour to Ryan, Jack! To _Ryan_!”

Jack had put the pieces together by now. It hurt him to think about it as well; it had always been Geoff who Gavin gave some flower or trinket to before a tournament back in the plains. Occasionally Dan, when he was competing. But never someone else – and never something this _important_ – it made something too close to jealous rise up in him as well.

He forced himself to remain calm – someone here had to.

“There is no way,” he said slowly, “He fell in love with Ryan just in the three days we've been here. He was upset with you – that's the only reason he gave it to him.”

“That still fucking hurts,” Geoff snapped, and Jack bit his lip.

There were too many things they didn't say. Too many things they took for granted – that they loved each other, that they were both interested in Gavin – that Gavin was interested in them in turn. And for a while it had worked – for a while it had given them space to let their feelings develop, to get closer to one another, without the pressure of a label or worrying whether to make their relationship publicly known. But in situations like this, it also made room for _doubt_ – and it meant that neither of them could properly admit _why_ it was upsetting them so much without also, for the first time, explicitly stating that they loved Gavin. Without opening that can of worms.

And for Geoff, at least, it also meant licking his already wounded pride, and not wanting to admit any further vulnerability – especially for fear of being rebuffed.

Jack squeezed his shoulder.

“Three days with Ryan won't change six years with us,” he repeated, helplessly.

“You know what Ryan's like,” Geoff snapped. “He can get in people's heads-”

“Gavin hasn't fallen for him,” Jack insisted, but nothing he said was calming Geoff down at all.

“He gave him a piece of his scarf!” he cried. “Even _we're_ not allowed to touch that thing!”

“I know,” Jack said, hating how even _he_ was hurt by that. “And it upsets me too, okay? Gavin is...”

He trailed off, unable to find the words – just stared at Geoff. Knew out of everyone, the other man knew what he meant.

Gavin was Gavin. He was _their_ Gavin, who they'd found, who they'd taken in, who could always make them laugh. Gavin who they'd never considered they might lose to someone else. And maybe it just took a threat for Geoff to finally admit that.

“I'm not jealous,” he snapped, in response to Jack's stare.

“I didn't say you were,” Jack pointed out, but he couldn't help the way his lips twitched.

“Yeah, well, you didn't fucking have to. You're giving me that _look_.” He contorted his face into a rather horrifying expression that Jack was certain he hadn't been making.

“Why would you be jealous?” Jack asked. “Because you're meant to be his favourite king? Because we were the first people he ever liked or trusted? Because we're the ones he always wants to spend time with, the ones he always comes back to in the end? Because you like to watch him perform even when you've seen every trick a hundred times before, and you can't stop smiling whenever we go out together...”

Geoff's face had gone red. He looked a bit shellshocked – Jack couldn't blame him; he'd been stunned to hear Ryan talk about their relationship for the first time as well. These were all things that'd never been admitted so blatantly before. It was a relief to finally say them.

“Maybe I think all that too,” he finished, and Geoff's gaze jerked back to him.

“Should I be jealous of you and him then?”

“Jealous over me or over Gavin?” Jack asked. There was a teasing note in it, and for a moment Geoff's breath caught a little – even between the two of them, they rarely skirted so close to actually _admitting_ anything – but a moment later he shook himself, and looked away.

“It's not the time for this,” he muttered, and Jack came back to himself as well.

“No,” he agreed, and suddenly felt very tired. “It's not.”

A moment of lethargic silence. Jack's hand was still resting on Geoff's shoulder, and he could feel the other man shifting restlessly.

Finally Jack sighed, remembering how they'd gotten to this in the first place.

“Either way,” he said – Geoff looked up again - “Yelling at Gavin like that is the fastest way to get him to close off. And I'm worried that he _is_ getting too close to Ryan, if only because he's helping him find his family. So I'll talk to him about it and see exactly what they've been doing together. But I think you need to calm down, and get some proper sleep, and we'll talk about this later on, okay? Gavin will forgive you.”

“I don't know,” Geoff murmured, and Jack squeezed his shoulder.

“He will,” he said calmly. “And you'll forgive him. You already are, you big softy.”

He jostled Geoff's arm and the other man managed a weak smile.

“It'll all be fine,” Jack continued. “The three of us will go back home after all this. No matter what happens.”

“The three of us,” Geoff murmured, and Jack nodded.

“Yes. Now get some rest, you'll feel better. I bet you barely slept last night.”

He started to get up but Geoff grabbed at his sleeve.

“Jack,” he began – Jack turned to him. All the anger had faded from Geoff's face. He looked nothing but exhausted, like everything had been taken out of him, and it was a stab to Jack's heart to see him.

"Thanks for being there today,” Geoff said, voice soft and ragged. “In the chess and... and in all of it.”

Jack opened his mouth.

_I love you_ , he wanted to say. The words had been on the tip of his tongue numerous times before, but never had he so desperately wanted Geoff to _know_. To know that no matter what happened, there was one person in his corner.

But he couldn't – didn't want it to be here and now, not in Ryan's kingdom, not when everything was falling apart.

“I'll always be here,” he said instead, and Geoff's smile was tired but genuine. “Gavin will too.”

“Right,” Geoff murmured, and Jack pulled him into a tight hug. He felt Geoff wrap his arms around his waist, burrowing into him – he was shaking, a little, and Jack dropped his face down, lips pressing against his hair – it was too intimate, could too easily have been something more-

But it would happen when it happened. He was confident enough of that.

 

* * *

 

Even with so many people staying at the fortress, it still managed to be eerily quiet and empty. Having left Geoff to sleep, Jack found himself too tired to deal with seeking out the rest of their convoy, so he dodged all the places where he knew they'd be waiting, wandering instead towards the courtyard gardens.

He wanted to be alone, so when he saw a figure walking towards him he started to turn and leave, only to realise it was Ray – head ducked, arms wrapped around himself. He started to bow, thinking the other man would just walk past, but when Ray noticed him, he made a beeline for him.

“Jack,” he said – they'd been formally introduced at one of the meals, though they hadn't spoken since.

“King Ray.”

“Do you know where to get bandages around here?” Ray asked, a bit awkwardly. “I've been wandering around this whole damn place trying to find someone, but there's no one around. Ryan's servants are like fucking ghosts. They disappear as soon as you look at them.”

“I have some in my room. I'm not sure where Ryan's infirmary is. Why?” Jack asked, and hissed in sympathy when Ray held out his hands, streaked with bloody grazes. “Ouch. How did that happen?”

“It's nothing,” Ray replied stiffly. “An accident.”

“Will that affect your performance tomorrow?”

“No,” Ray said, and flexed his fingers. “It doesn't hurt much. I can still shoot. But I need to clean it up.”

“I'll help. Come on.”

They walked up to Jack's rooms in a rather awkward silence. Having so rarely interacted with each other before, Jack wasn't quite sure what to say. Ray was an interesting one; he'd been fairly reserved since he got here. Jack hadn't seen him approach or interact with anyone save Michael and his own delegation – unlike Michael, who he'd seen talking to the soldiers from every single group, or Gavin, who'd been flitting about between practically everyone – but Ray had kept mostly to himself, and while he wasn't _unfriendly_ , per se, it left Jack unsure where they stood.

And now, Ray seemed even quieter than usual, something downcast about him as he trailed along after Jack until they reached the other man's room and he ushered him inside and onto a chair while he fetched bandages.

“These aren't too deep,” Jack observed, when he'd washed the wounds and started to dress them.

“Perils of playing with roses all the time,” Ray murmured. “The thorns can get you.”

Jack glanced up at him. He was crouched on the floor in front of Ray, carefully dabbing ointment onto his palms. He hadn't seen the other man put his gift into action much, but he'd heard the stories about it.

Ray seemed anything but vibrant and full of life at the moment, though. Although he was struggling to keep a carefully blank face, it kept slipping, flashes of upset sneaking through. His eyes were a little red.

Jack hesitated, unsure about prying, especially in the business of a king. But Ray looked so young, sitting there, and so very sad.

“Is everything okay, my lord?” he asked.

“Fine, of course,” Ray replied – a bit too quickly.

Jack frowned. Ray had been happy the last time Jack saw him – beaming and laughing with Michael over their combined success in the chess.

“I haven't spoken to you much since we got here,” he added. “Congratulations on the chess. You performed well.”

Ray smiled, but it was faint.

“We're relying on Michael to bring us to victory,” he replied.

Jack picked up the bandages and took one of Ray's hands in his, beginning to wind them around it.

“Your plan to unite has worked well, though,” he pointed out. “It's made you a force to be reckoned with.”

Ray just gave a vague sort of hum. He looked rather unhappy at the topic of conversation, and Jack fell into silence, focusing on his work. He was just finishing with Ray's other hand when the king stirred.

“Are you and Geoff together?” he asked abruptly.

Jack stiffened. Once again it gave him a shock to hear it said by someone else, especially after the conversation he'd just had with Geoff.

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

Ray looked terribly awkward. He didn't repeat the question, just looked away, something so vulnerable in it that Jack sighed.

“No,” he replied, “We're not.”

“But you're gonna be,” Ray said quietly – he met Jack's eyes and must've seen the answer there - “How do you know?”

“We just _know_ ,” Jack replied, rather helplessly. It was difficult to explain to anyone else, how things had fallen together. “Things... things just happen like that. When you're so close to someone, you can tell.”

“But _how_?” Ray asked. “What if he only likes you as a friend and you've just been fooling yourself into thinking he likes you back because you want him to?”

Jack stared at him. The statement didn't even frighten him, it seemed ludicrous. Geoff loved him. It was a certainty, even if he'd never heard the man say it. He couldn't ever imagine doubting it.

“I'd be disappointed,” he replied, thinking about it. “But I'll live. I love Geoff enough to keep him as a friend even if I can't have him. But that won't happen,” he added – it was easy to say that when he _knew_ it wasn't true.

Ray's eyes narrowed.

“You're very sure,” he said, dubiously.

“Like I said,” Jack repeated – had no idea how to explain it - “You can just _tell_.”

“Okay, but you can't, though,” Ray insisted. “Without ever confirming it – you can never be certain. You just can't.”

“Let's not get into questions of epistemology,” Jack replied, and Ray huffed, but still looked pensive.

“You love Geoff,” he mused. It was easier to hear him say it, this time. “You realise you have some competition?”

“What, Gavin?” Jack asked – Ray nodded, and Jack frowned, wondering how in the world _Ray_ had found that out - “It's not like that. The three of us are different. _Competition_ doesn't come into it. We know things will work out with him too.”

Ray still didn't seem satisfied.

“So why aren't you all together yet, if you know so surely?” he asked.

“A number of reasons,” Jack replied. “We probably would be, if Geoff wasn't king – it makes things more complicated.”

“And Michael and I wouldn't be _anything_ if we weren't kings,” Ray muttered. “We're together now because we have to be.”

“Don't you want to marry him?” Jack asked, and Ray glanced away, biting his lip. Jack watched him in concern – even if they were all competing against each other, he couldn't help but feel for the younger kings. He remembered Geoff in the years after he'd first inherited. Unsure of himself and vulnerable.

“Why do you think he did the proposing?” Ray said finally. “This was all _his_ damn idea. And now he's the one who's second guessing things.”

“It's a big commitment,” Jack pointed out. “And I imagine that you were rushed before the games to come up with things. There wouldn't have been a lot of time to discuss it.”

Ray gave a miserable shrug.

“It seemed so great at the time.”

“And now...?”

Ray put his hands up and scrubbed at his eyes. When he spoke again, he didn't answer the question, and his voice was tight with frustration.

“How can you ever...” he paused, collecting himself. “How could anyone just be _friends_ again once you _know_ one of you is in love with the other? With Geoff – how would that work? If it turned out you'd thought wrong. If it wasn't mutual.”

“I don't know,” Jack replied honestly, and Ray gave a humourless laugh.

“Yeah, me either.”

“If you're close to someone, things will work out one way or another,” Jack said, but Ray just shook his head, scoffing.

“You have a lot of faith in a happy ending,” he said.

“Don't you?” Jack challenged.

Ray lifted his hands up, fingers closing over the bandages.

“Nothing beautiful comes free,” he muttered – then gave a thoughtful pause before saying slowly, as though he were reciting something, “Even roses have thorns.”

Jack fell silent. Maybe it was the awful fortress that they'd spent too long in, or the oppressive greyness of the Stoneworld, or the tension that felt like it was rising up alongside the humidity, but Ray's cynical words had him suddenly uneasy.

“I don't like to think that way,” he replied, and sighed. “You're not that much younger than us. But I can tell you from experience – things have a way of working themselves out. You'll see, one day. You and Michael are very close – anyone can see that. I think it would take a lot to ruin your relationship.”

Ray looked startled, and Jack knew he'd hit it on the money – that these pointed questions had something to do with Michael as well – it wasn't hard to put together, even if he'd barely spoken to Ray before now.

“Maybe a lot has happened,” Ray murmured, and Jack reached out carefully and, when Ray didn't pull away or reprimand him, laid a hand carefully on the other man's shoulder.

“It's a stressful time for everybody,” he said. “Gods know Geoff's having his share of problems. But once these games are over, things will settle. They _have_ to. No matter who wins, things will eventually get back to normal.”

Ray stared at him for a long moment. Jack held his gaze calmly. But after a moment, Ray looked away again, still unconvinced.

“Maybe you can just magically see that you and someone else have mutual feelings for each other,” he said. “Maybe you can trust in that. But not everyone can. Maybe you shouldn't be so sure that Geoff and Gavin know.”

“Right,” Jack said softly, but more to be polite than anything else. _They know. I'm sure of it. They_ have _to by now._

“I'm just saying,” Ray added, and Jack nodded. He got up and stepped back, and Ray rose too, inspecting his hands. After a moment he looked up at Jack, and his smile was a little more genuine.

“Thank you,” he said, and Jack bowed his head.

“Take care, my lord,” he replied, and Ray gave another faint smile before leaving the room. Jack watched him leave – curious about what trouble was brewing between the other kings, faintly sympathetic – and still, though he tried not to think about it, vaguely uneasy about everything Ray had said.

 

* * *

 

It was bordering on evening when Jack returned to Geoff's room, hoping to talk to him again. The door was ajar when he arrived there, and he pushed it open, entering quietly.

It was dark inside, the curtains drawn. Geoff was no longer asleep in the bed, but there was a redstone lamp lit at the desk and Gavin was sitting there, poring over the maps of the Wild. He looked over his shoulder when Jack came in.

“Gav? What are you doing in here?”

“Just looking at things,” Gavin replied, something defensive in it. He was light on his feet and good at breaking into places, Jack knew – when he'd first joined them at the court they'd been hard pressed keeping him out of areas he wasn't meant to be in.

“Is Geoff here?”

Gavin shook his head, face clouding over at the mention of Geoff.

“He wasn't here when I arrived,” he replied, and promptly relocated to lying on his stomach on the bed, one of the maps spread out in front of him. Jack crossed the room and sat next to him; Gavin glanced up. One finger traced a path towards the cavern where the crown was.

“We're not going to win it,” he said flatly, and Jack pressed his lips together.

“No,” he replied. “We're not.”

Gavin's face twisted. He returned to staring at the map and after a moment Jack settled a hand on his back. He went very still.

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

“I'm fine,” Gavin said, but his voice was funnily flat. Jack rubbed his back.

“You really hurt Geoff's feelings before,” he chided, and Gavin ducked his head.

“He hurt mine first,” he countered.

“I know,” Jack said, “But really, Gavin? Giving Ryan a favour like that?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Gavin said, and angrily folded the map up. His thumb caught the edge of the parchment and he let out a hiss, bringing it to his mouth to suck at the paper cut. Jack gently took the map from his hands and laid it aside.

“I know this has been stressful for all of us,” he said. “And I know it's been hard for you, finding out more about your parents all of a sudden. But Gavin... you really need to be careful about Ryan.”

Gavin's face hardened and he squirmed away from Jack's hand.

“I mean it,” Jack insisted. “I don't know what he's been telling you but you can't _trust_ him, Gavin. There are... there are stories, about the things he's done... there's a reason Geoff doesn't like him.”

“I've heard all about these stories,” Gavin said stiffly.

“You said he wasn't as bad as people think,” Jack said. “But I wouldn't put it past him to manipulate you. I don't like how suddenly you two have gotten close – have you _seen_ how closed off Ryan is? Why would he let someone in for no reason?”

“Maybe I'm just that charming,” Gavin replied, and sighed. “Jack... I'm not stupid.”

“I know you're not-”

“I don't trust people easily,” Gavin cut in, and Jack snapped his mouth shut. “You _know_ I'm careful. More careful than people think. And right now, Ryan's the only person who's ever given me a solid lead on my parents. For the first time I actually know what this scarf's made of. And the experiments he does – he's the _only person_ who can help me. No one back in the plains studies those things. Just... trust that I know what I'm doing?”

Jack bit his lip. It was true that Gavin was careful – but the mystery surrounding his family was the one thing that had always clouded his judgment. Not to mention, for all his claims of knowing what he was doing, he had still impulsively given Ryan the favour. Jack seriously doubted he was as emotionally detached as he claimed.

But he didn't want to fight about it right now, so he nodded, and when he stroked a hand through Gavin's hair the other man didn't pull away this time, shuffling closer to Jack, practically throwing himself into the other man's lap and burrowing into him.

Jack wrapped an arm around him, a fond smile gracing his lips. He was in a strange position here; not personally involved in Geoff and Gavin's fight, but invested enough in both of them to not quite be on the sidelines either. It was a position oddly familiar to him; his relationship with both men was a lot calmer than the fiercer passion they had with each other, whether that manifested in ridiculous flirting, or bickering, or – like now – proper fights.

And maybe it would have been easy to feel like he was left out, like Gavin wasn't as invested in _him_ as he was in Geoff – but it never had, because Gavin had never treated him as less, even if sometimes Jack did feel like he was less interesting than Geoff – Geoff who was a king, Geoff who had the crown and the Sight, Geoff who'd fight in tournaments and bar fights alike. But Gavin had always paid him equal attention. No one wanted to have to compete with a king – but like he'd told Ray. There was no competition when it came to them.

Jack pulled Gavin closer and felt him press his face into his chest - but even if they fit together as well as they always did, there was something still reserved about the other man. Something disconcerting about his silence.

Either way, the door opened before anything else could be said, and both of them looked up as Geoff entered the room.

Jack felt Gavin stiffen in his arms – saw Geoff freeze when he noticed the two of them.

“Hey,” Jack said, and Geoff nodded back rather awkwardly.

“Hey,” he replied.

He came over to the bed and Gavin pulled away from Jack, getting up and starting to leave. Geoff cast Jack a helpless look, and Jack reached out and grabbed Gavin's arm before he could get too far.

There was a frozen pause before Gavin looked pointedly down at Jack's hand on his wrist. Jack let him go and Geoff spoke up before Gavin could leave again.

“I know you didn't do it deliberately,” he blurted out – Gavin glanced up at him and just nodded before hurrying out of the room.

“Gav,” Jack called after him, but the other man was already gone. He turned back to Geoff, who looked wrecked.

“He's still pissed at me,” he said, and Jack bit his lip.

“Give him time,” he replied, but the unease he'd felt when talking to Ray had resurfaced suddenly, and the room seemed suddenly much darker and colder as the dinner gong rang out distantly throughout the fortress like a death bell.

 

* * *

 

Ryan was distracted through the entire meal. He felt very strange – lighter than he had in years, almost _giddy_. He was coming first in the games. He'd made good progress in the lab this afternoon. Even his dull meetings hadn't been able to put a damper on his spirit.

It was strange, being in such a good mood when everyone else seemed particularly downcast. Ray and Michael weren't talking to each other, sitting at opposite sides of the table and avoiding catching each other's eyes. Geoff was as sullen as Ryan had expected him to be after his loss in the chess. There was little conversation and the courtiers soon picked up on the mood and ate in a morose silence.

Then again, tomorrow would be the last day of the games. There could only be one winner and everyone was on-edge waiting to see who it was. Of course people were sombre.

It was late by the time dinner had ended, and with the atmosphere as it was, no one much felt like hanging around to talk. Everyone quickly retired back to their chambers – the humidity still hadn't broken, and it was uncomfortable being in any room where there were lots of other people.

Ryan cast about for Gavin, eating with the other servants at the end of the hall. He lurked by the doors – people ducking their heads and avoiding his gaze as they passed him – and when the fool finally got up, Ryan caught his eye and nodded towards one of the courtyards leading off from the throne room before slipping out to wait for him.

It was dark out there, black clouds blocking out any semblance of moonlight. Only the redstone lights on the walls provided a crimson glow. Slowly the fortress fell silent as all the guests returned to their rooms, leaving Ryan standing alone in the blessedly cooler stone courtyard. There was something illicit and exciting about waiting here in the shadows.

Finally he spotted Gavin, slipping in from the throne room. He couldn't help the way something lit up in him at the sight of the other man.

“King Ryan?” Gavin called out softly, and jumped a bit when Ryan stepped out of the darkness. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you always do that?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Bit dramatic, innit?”

Ryan just shrugged.

“I prefer 'appropriately villainous', given what people expect of me,” he said, and liked the way Gavin's laugh sounded, startled and genuinely amused.

“I started running some tests on the scarf,” Ryan began, and Gavin perked up. He began to explain – how the material, though not easy to rip, was extremely flammable, which would account for why creepers burned away leaving nothing but trace gunpowder after they exploded – but before he could get very far into it, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught his eye, and he fell silent, looking up.

It was Geoff.

He was standing in the entrance to the courtyard, staring at them – in the light of the redstone torch on the wall above them, the two of them must be clearly visible from the throne room windows, huddled together and whispering. Geoff stepped towards them and Gavin looked up as well. He went very stiff when he realised who it was, and as the smile faded from his face Ryan felt a sudden, intense surge of protectiveness.

He stepped towards Geoff, already slipping into the role of the Mad King – chin tilted up challengingly, hands clasped behind his back.

“Hello Geoff,” he intoned.

He saw Geoff tilt his head warily, eyes flicking over Ryan, then Gavin behind him.

“What's going on here?” he demanded. He sounded annoyed – but there was something tentative and worried in there as well. Ryan had little sympathy for him.

“Gavin here is about to come and help me with something,” he informed him, and took pleasure in the concerned anger that flashed across Geoff's face.

“Yeah?” he asked. “What?”

“Laboratory work,” Ryan said, and waved a vague hand around before adding, smugly, “You wouldn't understand.”

Geoff looked furious.

“And the fool would?” he snapped, only to freeze as he realised how badly that had come out. He'd obviously meant to challenge Ryan, not put down Gavin, but Ryan saw the flash of hurt that crossed the other man's face, even if a second later he folded his arms as he stepped up by Ryan's side.

“He's smarter than you think,” Ryan replied smoothly. He deliberately put a hand on Gavin's shoulder, _knowing_ it would wind up Geoff – sure enough, the other king started forward angrily.

“Gavin,” he snapped. “Come here. Don't go anywhere with that asshole.”

“He doesn't want to go with you,” Ryan scoffed. “I'm so much more interesting... and I can help him. Can you?”

“I didn't fucking ask you,” Geoff said, and looked over at Gavin. They were still standing on opposite sides of the courtyard, and in the dark it was hard to read Geoff's expression, but there was something pleading enough in his face that Ryan felt Gavin stiffen under his hand.

Ryan leaned in close.

“You're not here for much longer,” he whispered. “Don't let him bully you into not finding out more about this material while you can. You wanted to help out in the lab, didn't you? Let's go and get this work done while we have the chance.”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. He looked torn, and Geoff took another step forward.

“What the fuck are you saying to him?” he asked. “Don't fill his head with shit-”

“The only person filling his head with shit is _you_!” Ryan hissed. Something snapped in him, something that had been building up since Geoff arrived with every suspicious glance the other man cast at him, every self-righteous look whenever Ryan needled at him. Like _he_ was the fucking _victim_ here. “I bet you've gone around telling everyone in your court stories about me! Rumours, lies – _you_ helped spread this image! The only ones who made me _me_ were people like _you_ -”

“That's fucking rich!” Geoff cried. “Blame other people for your reputation. Of course some stories are exaggerated. I doubt you can read minds, that you wield any magic other than the gift – but others, others are _true_ -”

“And what about you?” Ryan cut in, mockingly. “What stories will they tell about you? The king who lost all the games! The one who's oldest, _wisest_ , and here he is in _last place_!”

He'd touched a nerve. Geoff went pale with fury, and his voice was shaking as he shouted back:

“I'm in last place because of your fucking _manipulation_! He played you, Gavin,” he added desperately, “He showed me the scarf deliberately-”

“Of course you'd say that,” Ryan cried, and the outrage of years was building up now, coming spilling out - “You hate me-” _You've hated me since I was a child, you hate me so much that I couldn't come to you when I needed to -_ “You can't stand the thought that maybe the reason Gavin's here is because he _wants_ to be!”

“How many people died building that fucking wall under your grandfather's reign, under your _mother's_?” Geoff shouted, waving a furious hand. “And what did you do about it? Stand by while she forced people into labour-”

He felt like he was burning. Like everything he'd kept buried for years, every hidden pain, was setting alight and fuelling his anger now as he snapped back at Geoff.

“Soon we won't need a wall! You know _nothing_ about me!”

“You know what they say about him, Gavin?” Geoff continued viciously – he may have been addressing the fool, but his eyes were fixed on Ryan - “How his family have kept in power for so long, especially in times when they were waiting for an heir? They exiled anyone who they thought had ambitions on the crown. Sent them to the Wild and left them to die – and that's if they were feeling kind. Others were executed directly. Anyone who so much as talked badly about them, _gone_. Why do you think so many people fear the Haywood name?”

“I have exiled no one during my reign,” Ryan said coldly, “And if anyone should be worried about losing power it's you! Incapable,” he spat, and saw Geoff flinch, “Incompetent – that's what they're saying about you back in the plains, isn't it? You've done nothing but prove them right since you got here!”

“You think he won't do anything for a crown, Gav?” Geoff shot back. “How do you think he got this one?”

Ryan's heart nearly stopped.

“You shut your mouth right fucking now, Ramsey,” he hissed, and there was something lurking and dangerous in it. He felt sick. Felt cold and detached from his own body, like it was someone else he was watching face off against Geoff as the other king lifted his chin.

“Inherited young, didn't you?” Geoff taunted, too far gone to notice the threat.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Your mother's death was pretty unexpected.”

“I'm warning you.” The cold had flooded away; he felt hot all over now, like the sun was trapped in his chest, fire building up in his veins just waiting to burst out.

“Your own court doesn't trust you and you know exactly why.” Geoff stepped forward, sneering, and the silence before his next statement was terrible and heavy; like dawn the day of a battle or the moment after a murder-

“How did she die, Ryan?”

He snapped.

With a furious roar he dropped down and slammed his palm against the ground. A blaze of redstone shot across the stone floor of the courtyard towards Geoff, white hot and blindingly bright. Geoff yelled, leaping back and flinging his arms up to shield his face. The ground before him settled into shining redstone, smoke rising where the edges of it met the regular paved ground. Ryan's rose, fists clenched tightly by his sides; he felt dizzy, his nerves alight with a tingling electricity.

“You made me,” he heard himself hiss, and took two angry strides towards Geoff, heedless of how the hot redstone sizzled against the soles of his boots. “You _all made me_.”

Geoff had pulled a dagger as soon as Ryan used his gift. It was instinct, the second something threatened him – but he adopted a fighting stance now as Ryan moved towards him, and Ryan, seeing it, reached for his own small blade that he kept at his belt. He drew it with a vicious swipe-

Only for Gavin to suddenly lunge in front of him, one hand gripping Ryan's arm, the other thrust out towards Geoff.

“Stop!” he yelled. “ _Stop_! Don't fight.”

Ryan shook him off easily. He was pumped up with adrenaline and anger; he _wanted_ to fight and his gaze was fixed only on Geoff, who was still glaring at him, and how the other man's words were still ringing in his head-

For a moment they stood, bathed in crimson light, poised and ready to go at each other's throats.

But a second later Gavin grabbed Ryan's wrist again, pushing the hand holding the dagger back down.

“ _Ryan_ ,” he hissed, and stared up at him. Ryan looked down and met blazing green eyes. Combined with his name, it snapped him out of it a little. He paused, and Gavin glanced over his shoulder and cast Geoff a furious look as well. It made the other man falter, lowering his own blade.

Just like that, the tension diffused. The redstone under their feet faded and dimmed, and they were cast in shadow once more.

Ryan felt sick as the energy drained from his blood. Sick, but still _angry_ , pent up tension making him ache. He had no desire to look at Geoff any more, let alone argue with him – just wanted to get out of here, and he turned to leave when he heard Geoff call out.

“Gavin!” he shouted, and Ryan froze. “Don't you dare go with him.”

He realised Gavin had stepped after him, and paused, back still turned, waiting to hear what happened.

“Don't be an idiot,” Geoff continued, and his voice was frozen and furious, “How many times do I have to fucking warn you? Didn't you see what he just _did_? Nothing he tells you about your parents is worth you siding with him in these games-”

“Siding?” Gavin cut in, voice tight. “Does it matter? You've lost them already.”

The words made Geoff fall silent, shocked. Ryan closed his eyes, waiting for the outburst.

It came.

"Lost? Because of him and _you_ , breaking my _fucking order not to go near him_ -”

Ryan didn't want to listen any more. He'd had enough of it for one night. Ignoring them, he continued walking, striding out through the back exit of the courtyard and circling around back into the fortress, heading for his lab. He could hear Geoff and Gavin continuing to argue behind him, but tuned them out.

He thought he was alone, but when he entered the fortress again he heard running footsteps catching up to him, and paused.

Gavin came up by his side again, breathing heavily. Whatever they'd spoken about, it seemed Geoff hadn't got his way. Gavin looked up at him, and neither of them spoke, but his face was hard. He looked like he was washed over with blood in the red light of the torches. They stared at each other for a moment – both tense, both shaking – before Ryan marched on to his lab, Gavin following him in silence.

 

* * *

 

By the time they got down to the lab Ryan's hands were shaking so badly that he could barely put the key in the lock. He forced himself to pause, taking a deep breath. _Stay in control_.

The door clicked open. He put the key back in his pocket and strode in, letting the familiar surroundings of the laboratory soothe him. It didn't much work.

_You think he wouldn't do anything for a crown?_

_How did she die, Ryan?_

Geoff's words wouldn't stop ringing in his head, filling him with a churning mix of emotions that he struggled to suppress. Anger. Fear. _Guilt._ And that lurking terror that what people said was true – _a monster. A tyrant. Mad King. That's what you are. Geoff believes it_.

He snatched up a glass beaker and raised his hand, ready to throw it at the wall, only to pause. He wasn't Michael, or Geoff, he didn't let his anger get the better of him. A moment later his eyes fell on Gavin, slipping into the room behind him, and he put the glass down and lowered his head, breathing deeply.

“So now you see,” he said, voice dark and tight, “Why your king hates me so.”

“He shouldn't have done that,” Gavin replied. “He's... he's having a bad time right now. He's been yelling at me too. He didn't mean any of it.”

“Oh, he meant it,” Ryan scoffed, and turned around, stepping towards Gavin. The other man held his ground. “Anger brings out honesty. And I was very angry too. Some things... some things are true.”

“I figured,” Gavin said, so soft it was barely a whisper. His eyes didn't leave Ryan's, but his face was unreadable. Ryan didn't like that; he prided himself on being able to tell what others were thinking – it made it easier for him to know what to do, to stay on top of everything.

“Then you know what I'm capable of. Are you scared of me now?”

Gavin shook his head. Ryan turned away with a huff, disbelieving, and braced himself against one of the lab benches. One hand fumbled for a stone; he squeezed it, watching it shine and turn to redstone. Needed to get his pent up energy out somehow.

“I don't need to know all your secrets,” Gavin spoke up behind him. “Sometimes it's not better to tell people. Especially when they're hard to explain. There are some things that are just impossible to understand unless you were there.”

Ryan closed his eyes. It was true – it was painfully true, and exactly what he needed to hear, and it was a _relief_ for someone to understand that...

But at the same time, an angry, closed off part of himself hated that Gavin could calm him so easily with just words. That someone else had _any_ measure of control over him.

But that part was small and bitter and suddenly, suddenly he _needed_ someone to see.

“I have plenty of secrets to show you,” he muttered, and turned abruptly, walking to the basement door. “Come here.”

Gavin looked wary, but followed in silence. Ryan opened the door with the same key – his heart was pounding; no one else had ever been down here, not even Kerry – and ran a hand over the wall, activating the lights. The stairs led down, deep underground into a hidden room. There was no light here save the redstone. It felt like descending down a bloodied throat, into the gullet of some enormous carnivore.

Finally the narrow stairs gave way into a larger stone chamber. Gavin stopped short behind him with a little intake of breath as Ryan stepped aside.

And here it was. The project he'd been working on for years.

“Ryan...” Gavin whispered – Ryan turned to him, took in his wide eyes and confusion. “What the hell are these?”

Ryan stepped forward. Now that they were down here, his anger had faded away. He felt surreally calm of a sudden, with his work in front of him. He reached forward and ran a hand down the iron arm of one of the five enormous figures that hung on frames before them.

“I call them golems,” he said, reverently.

“What _is it_?” Gavin inched forward, arms wrapped around himself. “Are they... are they asleep?”

A quiet laugh.

“Oh, they're not alive. I suppose you might consider them puppets. I built them. They are powered by redstone. They're not quite finished yet – but they nearly are.” He reached down and gripped the golem's hand, calling on his gift. In its smooth, blank head, two redstone eyes flared to life and Gavin sprang backwards with a startled squeak.

“Powered by redstone,” Ryan repeated, “But not like the other constructions in my kingdom. They are answerable only to me. There is no fear of anyone using them against me.”

“But what are they _for_?”

“Defence,” Ryan said fiercely. He let go of the golem's hand and its eyes dulled down again. “If I do not win the crown, one of the other kings will have an army of mobs right on my doorstep. So far the wall serves us well in keeping out strays – but we can't build a wall around every village in the kingdom. It is dangerous for humans to fight mobs. Especially ones like creepers – we've lost too many lives already. But these golems are not alive. They can withstand tremendous damage and even if one is destroyed, others can be built. These can protect my people. Not to mention, if any of my mother's old counsellors gets it into their heads that they want to overthrow me, I'll have an army at my back. An army that I'm _certain_ is loyal only to me.”

“An army of five,” Gavin murmured, glancing over the hanging figures, and Ryan laughed again.

“Oh, Gavin. These are just the ones I was putting the finishing touches on. Come here.”

He put a hand on Gavin's shoulder and led him past the hanging golems to the back wall of the chamber. An enormous mirror took up most of the space, but when he ran his hand over a switch beside it, it slid down into the ground, revealing a glass window behind it. Another switch lit up the hidden chamber beyond, and Gavin stiffened next to him.

In the bloody light they looked like an army of ghosts, standing in uniform rows with their hulking frames and blank, iron faces. There were a hundred and twenty five of them – plus the five more hanging behind them – Ryan knew the circuitry of each one intimately. He'd built them all himself, after all.

Gavin stood for a long time in silence, his breath fogging the glass in front of them. Ryan still couldn't tell what was going through his head.

“Well?” he said, finally. “What do you think?”

“I mean, _what the fuck_ is the first thing that springs to mind,” Gavin replied, and Ryan chuckled, sending the mirror back up. As the golems vanished from view Gavin turned to him, eyes huge. “Your own personal army?”

“You can't trust anyone else,” Ryan replied. “Especially with something this powerful. Michael and Ray have their tricks,” he added, “I can respect that, even if I think their idea is flawed. They just want to protect their kingdoms – and all I want is to protect mine.”

Gavin nodded, slowly.

“Geoff was right,” Ryan continued, “My mother was not a good woman. My ancestors, either. Too many people died being forced to build that wall. I told you that it would be hard to extend it the way we need to. But with the golems for protection, we won't have to worry about that.”

Gavin nodded again. He walked back to the five golems and glanced at Ryan, seeking permission – Ryan nodded, and Gavin hesitantly raised a hand and laid it on one of the broad metal backs.

“I can send these out to the villages who are too far away for our soldiers to protect,” Ryan said. “They can guard travellers, merchants...”

“You built all these yourself?” Gavin asked. Gaining confidence, he circled the figure, staring it up and down, before turning back to Ryan with a tentative smile. “That's incredible.”

“You think?” Ryan asked, a sudden shyness taking over him as he admitted, “I've never shown anyone before.”

“I've never seen anything like these. An army that doesn't risk human lives.”

“Geoff would probably call it some evil trick of mine,” Ryan muttered, and Gavin came back over and stared at him for a long moment.

“Geoff doesn't always know everything,” he replied finally. “He thinks I'm stupid. He thinks you're wicked. He doesn't get it.”

“You're not stupid,” Ryan said. “I would not show any true fool these. They'd misunderstand and start a great hue and cry about me trying to take over the world with an army of metal people. I knew you would see the value in them.”

Gavin ducked his head. He was the one to smile shyly this time. Ryan wanted to touch him, suddenly – so he did, reaching out and tentatively brushing a hand over Gavin's cheek. After the cold metal of the golem his skin felt warm and flushed with life-

But what he didn't expect was for Gavin to suddenly reach forward, and grip the front of his shirt, and yank him close to press their lips together.

Ryan's surprise lasted for only a second. Then he was kissing back, fiercely, one hand coming up to tangle in Gavin's hair, the other gripping at his waist. Gavin conceded easily, letting him take control, his own hands running lightly over Ryan's back.

It had been a long time since Ryan did anything remotely intimate with someone else. And with the adrenaline and energy of earlier still coursing through him, needing to be worked out somehow...

It felt electric. He didn't think it would have with anyone else. But these last three days things had built up with Gavin – Gavin, the mystery – Gavin who somehow understood him, who somehow knew the exact things that Ryan needed to hear – Gavin who he'd tentatively let his guard down around, breaking every rule one by one until here they were now. The final thrill. The final _freedom_.

He pushed forward until Gavin's back hit the wall; he made a muffled little sound before yanking Ryan even closer, something close to a groan escaping when Ryan tugged at his hair to angle his head into a better position. The warmth of the other man against him, the tingling tremor that sparked through his whole body when Gavin brought a hand up and touched the side of his neck – it was a human contact he hadn't felt in so long that it seemed like his entire body was greedily drinking it in. When they pulled apart, panting and breathless, he couldn't let go – hands still gripping Gavin's waist tightly as he buried his face against the other man's neck, the material of the scarf soft against his cheek as he pushed it out of the way, lips pressing to the hollow of Gavin's throat. Gavin's breath stuttered – Ryan could feel his pulse, pounding hard beneath his skin.

“Stay here with me,” he mumbled against Gavin's neck, and the other man went very still.

Ryan pulled back to find Gavin staring at him, not in person but at their reflections in the mirror. He turned to look at the glass himself – both of them with hair dishevelled, lips reddened, shirts rumpled – it was a far cry from his usual pristine control, but here and now, to him, it seemed glorious. He met Gavin's eyes in the mirror and tugged him closer against him. Gavin didn't pull away.

“Geoff needs to know,” Ryan murmured into his ear, “What it's like to lose something he loves. How can he understand us? The parentless.”

“His parents are gone too,” Gavin replied, but he was gazing at Ryan, transfixed.

“Not like ours are,” Ryan pointed out. “Not leaving nothing to live up to.”

Gavin hummed, and Ryan wound his arms around his waist. He felt strangely light, drunk almost. Like he was hypnotising himself with his own words. Gavin's touch remained magnetic; Ryan was pressed right up against his back now, needing to feel him as much as possible.

“Geoff is too complacent right now. He takes you for granted. As they say,” he added, and pressed another kiss to Gavin's jaw – the other man's eyes fluttered shut as Ryan's teeth scraped gently down his neck - “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Gavin's breath hitched. He twisted in Ryan's arms and kissed him again – softer this time, gentler – when they pulled apart he kept his hands pressed to Ryan's chest, staring up at him. Ryan was certain he must be able to feel his heart pounding. Gavin's hands were very warm, the way Ryan's got after using his gift; he could feel the heat through the fabric of his shirt.

“Stay with me,” he said again. “I'll teach you science. You're clever, you can help me. I'll win the crown – we'll develop the two kingdoms together.”

“You'll wear it?” Gavin murmured.

“Of course I'll wear it,” Ryan replied, without even thinking about it. “I know what I'm doing with it. You won't have to worry yourself about all that.”

“What if it turns out you can't have two gifts?” Gavin asked suddenly – Ryan stilled, looking down at him, and Gavin bit his lip.

“What if,” he continued, “You put it on and... and nothing happens? Is that a stupid question? I've been wondering about it lately.”

“It's a very good question,” Ryan mused. “I hadn't thought about it... no one's ever had two gifts before.”

“Maybe one's the limit,” Gavin said, and Ryan gave a thoughtful hum. It was _possible,_ yes, but somehow he doubted it would happen. The crown gave you the gift – that was how it worked. There was no reason why already having one should prevent you receiving another – right?

Still. They couldn't discount the possibility, but he was so caught up in the moment, in _Gavin_ , in the thought of him staying, that he thought little of what he said next.

“If that happens,” and still, he didn't think it would, “Then I'll give the power to you.”

Gavin's eyes widened.

“Really?” he asked, and Ryan leaned in and kissed him again, hard – couldn't stop himself now, some burning passion building up in him, as fierce as his anger had been before – but _better_ , somehow, a feeling that didn't leave him sick and drained inside the way everything else did. Gavin let him in easily, his breath hitching when Ryan's teeth caught at his bottom lip as they pulled apart. Ryan reached up and gripping him by the shoulders, turning him to face the mirror. His hands reached around Gavin; straightening his scarf and shirt, smoothing his hair down.

They looked good together, he thought, circling his hands gently around the top of Gavin's head. A crown would suit them both.

“Really,” he replied – Gavin was staring into the mirror as though seeing himself for the first time. Against the red of the room his eyes stood out like emeralds. “My Wild prince. Creeper boy. We'll rule side by side.” His hand trailed down to the side of Gavin's neck and the other man shivered before pressing in against his touch. “No need for any more walls.”

“Ryan...”

He liked the way his name sounded on Gavin's tongue. Reaching up, he tapped the switch and the mirror slid away again. Without the lights on, they could just dimly see the shadowy figures of the golems in the room beyond, and their own faces reflected in front of them.

“You can help me build more of these,” Ryan said. “It will be faster with two people working on them. I know you'll have plenty of ideas on how to help me improve them.”

“I'd like that,” Gavin breathed, and Ryan pressed his lips to the other man's hair.

“Golems and mobs,” he murmured. “Combined it will be the most powerful kingdom. And if I get both gifts, I'll be the most powerful man.”

“It's not about power,” Gavin said, and Ryan hummed.

“No,” he agreed, “It's not. Complete control. No need to be afraid any more. People will fear _us_.”

Gavin lifted a hand, touching it to the glass, his fingers framing the face of the closest golem.

“But Geoff,” he began, and the sound of the other king's name snapped Ryan out of it suddenly.

_Gavin loves him_ , he remembered, _loves Jack, too_. He knew it would take more than some pretty words to change that. Knew that he shouldn't _want_ to – but all he could think was that if Gavin only stayed longer, spent more time with him – he'd see that Geoff had been completely wrong about him. Things might change.

Ryan wanted him here. Didn't want to be _alone_ any more.

“He thinks I'm using you,” he said – he let his hands slip from Gavin's shoulders, but the other man stayed pressed up against him. “But he's the one who's been using you since we got here, hasn't he?”

Gavin hesitated. There was a slow realisation in his voice when he answered.

“He thinks people talk around me since I'm just a fool,” he said, and then, “He's right about that. I've spied for him. Never with you, though – he didn't want me near you.”

“Like I said,” Ryan scoffed. “He uses you like a pawn and when you're not useful to him – then what? He didn't help you find your family. Not the way I can.”

Gavin looked away, and Ryan reached up and brushed his hair back, one hand cupping his cheek and turning him gently to face him.

“Aren't you sick of not being in control?” he whispered, and they were things he'd asked himself too, once. “Always taking orders...”

“It isn't like that with Geoff,” Gavin said, and Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“Isn't it? Does he tell you what to do?”

“Yes,” Gavin admitted after a moment, “He made me come here. I wanted to go to the witches.”

“It turned out for the best,” Ryan said. “But you should be able to choose your own fate, don't you think? Once I have that crown,” he added, “I'll use it to help you.”

Gavin looked torn, and Ryan ached for him. He knew intimately what it was like to be bound to someone you loved – but knew, inside, you had to let go of. Gavin reached up, gripping at Ryan's shirt to steady himself, and he folded his hands tenderly over the other man's.

“Don't let anyone control you, Gavin,” he urged, and Gavin bit his lip.

“Free,” he said, and Ryan blinked.

“What?”

"No one at the orphanage had a last name. When I ran away I picked one. Gavin Free.”

Ryan stared at him for a moment, then couldn't help but smile as he squeezed Gavin's hands. It seemed perfect, suddenly, the way everything about Gavin had been since he arrived – all of it slotting neatly into place between Ryan's own cracks like he was the piece that had been missing all along.

“I wish I could change my name,” he replied. “My mother used to call me James but I've always insisted on using Ryan instead. I prefer it. Aside from that, I'm stuck carrying _Haywood_ around with me. People hear the name and, well. It's clear what they think.”

"You are the king. You can do whatever you like,” Gavin pointed out, and Ryan shrugged.

“It would be... hard, for people to understand why. If I married,” he added, something joking in his voice, “I would take their name.”

Gavin laughed, and a second later Ryan did, too. After a moment Gavin pressed his face against Ryan's chest and then looked up and _smiled_ at him; a wide, genuinely affectionate smile-

And that was it. Ryan was _gone_.

It had been so long. So long without human touch – without feeling – without letting anyone close, here in his stone world with his stone heart. But that all seemed to grow warm, now, shining bright and bold like redstone – he'd always hated stories where people fell in love in the span of a few days. And maybe this wasn't love, not quite, but it felt just as powerful now as he finally let himself feel, let himself _want_ -

Gavin was the one this time to lean up and kiss him and take control, taking Ryan by the arm and turning him until he was the one with his back to the glass. It felt foreign to trust someone so much – to give in to them – and for a moment he didn't know quite how to respond except to realise, suddenly, that it felt _good_ – that for once he didn't have to think, just let someone else take the lead.

The glass window was cold against his back, but Gavin was pressed up in front of him, warm and alive, hands pressed to Ryan's chest for a moment before running down his sides to grip at his waist. Ryan closed his eyes, lost in the head-spinning whirl of sensations. He forgot about how angry he had been before. Forgot about the rumours, the whispers, the mask that he put up because people expected it of him.

Forgot how careful he had always been.

For now all he could think was _Gavin_ , and _win the crown, keep him here, work together_ , and a future that was suddenly infinitely more colourful than just red and grey.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Michael got very little sleep the night before the archery.

He woke in fits and starts from half-remembered bad dreams. It was horribly hot and he couldn't get comfortable, the bed too warm, the air in the room too thick. At one point he lay awake for what had to be over an hour, unable to get his mind to settle. He felt nervous for one of the first times in his life, and couldn't work out why.

Tomorrow he had to win the crown. He had the best chance of all of them of beating Ryan. His whole kingdom – and _Ray's_ – were counting on him.

_Ray_.

He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the other day. All he'd wanted was to sit down and talk things out, make sure they were both comfortable with everything going on here – but Ray had gotten so upset – and his _outburst_.

Ray was in love with him.

Maybe it should have been obvious, but when you knew someone for so long, got so comfortably close to them, it was hard to notice changes. And he honestly had no idea how he was feeling about this – it had shocked him, and to think about it now made him feel funnily nervous, but he still couldn't quite puzzle out how he was meant to _respond_ to this.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't _think_ he felt the same way, but then again he was already so close to Ray that some people in their courts probably already thought they were together. Very few in the alps or the desert had been surprised by their engagement, after all, even if many realised it was just for political purposes.

_Not for Ray, it wasn't_ , Michael realised – and he felt awful now, thinking about what the other man must've gone through – _I came up with this stupid idea. I proposed. I_ kissed _him. And this whole time – this_ whole time _– I've been so fucking oblivious._

_He's in love with me._

_In_ love _with me_.

This was something he wasn't equipped to deal with. He wanted the two of them to be friends – didn't want anything to change, or be awkward – wanted Ray to be _happy_. But the thing was, even if he wanted to, even if it would make everything so much _easier_...

You couldn't just _decide_ to have feelings for someone. Right now, he couldn't give Ray what he wanted, couldn't _pretend_ , because it wouldn't be honest if he himself wasn't certain about it.

Maybe now that he knew Ray liked him, things might develop – now that he was seeing that _possibility_ , where before things had been so comfortable between them that he hadn't fathomed they might ever change – but it was the awkwardness, in the meantime, that would destroy them.

He thought Ray might be angry with him now.

Honestly, he wouldn't blame him. No wonder Ray had gotten so upset about him spending time with Gavin – no wonder he'd rushed out of the room when Michael started asking why he'd kissed him – he couldn't stop thinking of the horror in Ray's face when he'd accidentally blurted out his secret. How he'd pushed Michael away afterwards. And later, after dinner, Michael had tried to go up to him and talk and Ray had _glared_ at him and left before Michael had a chance to say a thing.

Everything was so fucked up.

The whole situation had him miserable and stressed now, and he flipped his pillow over, trying to find a cool spot, tossing and turning as he struggled in vain to get back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

There was a storm coming.

When Michael woke up, for a long moment he didn't realise it was actually morning. The sky outside was so dark that it felt like it was still night time, and it left him feeling both disoriented and very uneasy. It was still disgustingly hot, and combined with the darkness outside and the red lights of the fortress, it felt like they were all trapped in some sort of weird hell.

It didn't help that everything was eerily quiet when he eventually emerged from his room. His men were all out in the barracks, but no one else seemed to be up and about yet. He ate breakfast alone, contemplated going and knocking on Ray's door, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He wouldn't know what to say to the other man – was scared of what his reaction might be.

_If you win the crown he'll be happy_ , he told himself. Maybe then things would be better.

He ended up sitting outside for a long while, trying to calm his nerves. The darkness was caused by a mass of pitch black clouds that had blocked out the entire sky, obviously full to bursting with rain. He wasn't sure when the storm would hit, but it looked like it was going to be a big one.

Eventually people began moving around – soldiers milling in from the barracks, high-ranking nobles starting to file in from the city to watch. It would not be long before Michael was expected in the archery range for the final game to begin. He watched the people for a while – nodding and occasionally smiling when they stopped and bowed to him as they passed – but soon tired of it, and rose, wanting to walk about and clear his head for a bit.

“Michael.”

He turned when a voice called his name softly, but couldn't see who it had been until he twisted his neck around and finally thought to look _up_.

He'd been sitting on a bench out in the front courtyard, just outside the great hall. Gavin was perched on the top of a stone archway that framed the large entrance doors. It was quite high off the ground and Michael startled in alarm when he noticed him peering over the edge of it – it was hard to see him unless you were standing at a certain angle.

“How the fuck did you get up there?” he demanded.

“I climbed down from that.” Gavin pointed to a nearby balcony overlooking the courtyard. “Michael, I need to talk to you. _Urgently_.”

Michael properly looked at him, and even more unease curled in his stomach. The last time he'd seen Gavin, Geoff had been pulling him out of the chess match. Since then he'd only caught a glimpse of him at dinner. But Gavin looked very different now. His eyes were wide, his face drawn and pale.

He looked _scared_ , and Michael frowned.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

Gavin suddenly ducked back out of sight, and Michael looked around to find another group of nobles walking into the castle. He forced a smile for them – they looked puzzled to have seen him staring up at the top of the doorway seemingly talking to himself, but bowed politely as they headed in. As soon as the courtyard was clear Gavin's eyes appeared over the edge of the archway again, blinking owlishly.

“Come up here,” he hissed. “I need to tell you some things.”

“Like fuck I'm coming up there,” Michael replied incredulously. “Come down _here_.”

Gavin dangled his legs over, sized up the drop down, and appeared to reconsider it. He turned over and lowered himself over the edge, hanging on by his fingertips. There were still a good few feet between him and the ground. Michael stared at him, bemused.

“Help!” Gavin said, and Michael rolled his eyes, moving up and grabbing him around the waist.

“I got you,” he said, and Gavin let go. Michael lowered him to the ground and he brushed himself off, pulling a face.

“You're like a fucking cat,” Michael said, and Gavin scoffed out something like a laugh before his previous upset took over again.

“Can we talk privately? Why are there so many people around?” he asked, looking about.

“The games are starting in less than an hour,” Michael pointed out, and Gavin blanched. Michael's concern flooded back in. He took Gavin by the arm and led him towards the nearest private place; a little alcove just leading off the courtyard.

“Not here,” Gavin hissed, “I can't tell you here.”

“We don't have time to go anywhere else! Gavin, what's going on? You look...” he trailed off, unsure what to say, and Gavin looked down, kicking at the ground.

“I'm scared,” he said, and Michael's stomach dropped for a moment, only to be replaced by a burning protectiveness.

“Why?” he demanded. “What's going on? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Gavin said, “I'm scared of Ryan. Michael, he's... oh, I can't explain now but he's made an army and he says it's just for defence but I think he's plotting awful things. Michael, he's trying to get me to help him with it, Michael, and he hates Geoff _so much_ and they nearly fought and he's got an _army-”_

His words were tripping over each other in their haste to get out; Michael stared at him before reaching out and gripping his shoulders.

“Gavin, calm down. What do you mean, an army?”

“You can't let him win the crown,” Gavin said frantically, gripping at the front of Michael's shirt. “He'll be too powerful-”

“We all have armies,” Michael began, and Gavin shook his head.

“No! Not like he does, he's _built_ them.”

Michael stared at him. He still didn't quite understand, but Gavin's eyes were huge and he looked on the verge of panic.

“Why aren't you telling Geoff all this?” he said. Of all the questions he could have asked, he wasn't sure why that was the one that came out. It seemed to take Gavin aback; something flickered across his face before he shook his head again.

“He's angry with me right now. And Geoff... he has no self control; he'll just go up and accuse Ryan without thinking things through and he'll get himself hurt. Please help,” he begged, and it made something in Michael's chest ache – and then a burning resolve balloon inside of him. If Ryan could send happy, chirpy Gavin into this quivering mess...

He was going to stop him.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I'll help, but you have to tell me more.”

“There's no time,” Gavin said, “And not here – he might be listening.”

_That_ put Michael on edge, a sudden paranoia that Ryan had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere, springing up again. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Where is this army?” he hissed. “How do you know all this?”

“It's in his laboratory,” Gavin whispered back. “And he showed me – he thinks I'm on his side but I... I didn't know what to _do_ , I pretended and... and he showed me everything but I don't trust him, Michael. If he gets the mobs too, even you and Ray together wouldn't be a match for him.”

Michael stared. He had never been scared of anything before – still wasn't – when you were literally the strongest man in the entire land, nothing ever quite seemed a match for you. But thanks to a combination of the trouble with Ray, and the awful darkness that still hadn't let up, and the electric tingle of the oncoming storm in the air, a suffocating sort of dread was building up in his chest.

Something was very wrong here, and Gavin was breathing too fast. Michael squeezed his shoulders.

“He doesn't think you'll tell anyone?” he asked, and Gavin shook his head.

“No, I... I stayed with him last night. Not like that,” he added, when Michael's eyes widened. “We were working down in the lab on other things and then I went to sleep in the barracks after he went to his own rooms. I haven't seen him since but... he doesn't think I'd tell anyone. I can tell you more about it, Michael, we just need more time – there are too many people around.” He shrank further back into the alcove, Michael moving with him. They were pressed so close together that he could feel Gavin's heart pounding.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Look, I need to head to the range in a minute. Once the archery is over, either I'll have won the crown or Ryan will. Whichever happens, you can tell me more about what this army is all about, and we'll decide what to do next.”

Gavin nodded.

“I don't want to come watch,” he said softly. “I can't be there. If I pretend to be on Ryan's side, Geoff will get too upset. But if I'm cold to Ryan, he'll be suspicious.”

“Don't come,” Michael said, and squeezed his shoulders. “Wait in my rooms. No one will look for you there. I'll come and get you once it's all over.”

Gavin hesitated.

“From the throne room Ryan can see everything that's happening. Or if he's not there, his servants can. They might report back to him if they see me going into your chambers,” he said.

Gods, this was getting worse and worse! Surveillance and spying and _secrets_ – it was everything Michael hated. Give him a good old fashioned brawl any day.

“Don't go in through the door,” he said. “I'll head up now and leave the window open for you. Since you're so good at climbing,” he added, teasingly, and was pleased when Gavin nearly smiled at that.

“Thank you Michael,” he said, softly. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking suddenly so small and vulnerable that before Michael even thought about it, he was reaching forward and pulling Gavin into a tight hug.

The fool made a muffled, surprised noise, but then hugged Michael back, pressing his face into his shoulder.

“It'll all be fine,” Michael said. “I'll deal with it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Gavin whispered. They pulled apart and Michael patted him briskly on the shoulder.

“Stay away from Ryan. I'll go open that window and then head over to the range. Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” Gavin replied, and then turned and ran off, vanishing into the crowds of people who were making their way into the fortress.

Michael watched him go. As he took a deep breath and left the alcove, he couldn't help the nagging feeling in his stomach that something awful was going to happen. That everything was about to change. No longer were these just games, no longer was it just about a crown – Ryan obviously had something else up his sleeve, and he tried not to think about the fact that he might be well out of his depth here.

In the distance, the first rumblings of thunder rang out, and moments later rain started to spatter down, thin and weak at first. Michael closed his eyes as he felt the droplets start to hit his face and hair.

His blood was rushing, adrenaline pumping up the way it did before a tournament or fight. A fierce resolve had taken over him - _protect Gavin. Protect your kingdom. You're a king now – you need to take care of this_.

 

* * *

 

Geoff paced furiously around his room. When a peal of thunder rang out, he jumped violently before lifting his hands to tug at his hair. He glanced at the timepiece on the wall and cursed as he realised it was nearly time to go down to the range.

“Come on, Jack, hurry the fuck up,” he hissed, and kicked angrily at the wall before sitting down on the bed and putting his head in his hands.

He'd barely slept last night. He felt sick over what had happened with Gavin – didn't even want to tell Jack about it. Just went back to his room and locked himself in and tried not to think about how much everything _hurt_.

_Chose him. He chose_ Ryan _. How could he... how could he when he knows_ we're _something..._

He hadn't wanted to fight with Gavin again. But when he'd seen him out there with Ryan – when the other king had been so fucking _smug_ about it – he hadn't known what to do. Had let the anger and fear take over.

Now he didn't know what to do, except perform as well as he could in the archery in the hopes of preventing Ryan from winning. And then get Gavin out of this kingdom as fast as he fucking could. He was certain that Ryan had gotten into his head somehow, had twisted everything around.

The door opened and his head snapped up. Jack finally entered, and Geoff stood up from the bed.

“Did you find him?” he demanded, and Jack nodded. Geoff had finally told him this morning what had gone on.

“I just spoke to Dan,” he replied. “Gavin's fine, last he saw him. Late last night he went and slept in the barracks with him. He left some time this morning, didn't say where he was going. But Dan says he was okay.”

Geoff's shoulder's slumped in relief.

“He's avoiding me,” he said miserably, and Jack took him by the shoulders.

“He's not."

“He _is_ , otherwise he would've gone back to his rooms where I could find him.” He'd nearly lost his head when he went to find Gavin this morning only to hear he'd never gone back to the rooms the other servants were staying in – had been certain, for a moment, that Ryan had done something with him after they left together. “Everything's gone _wrong_ , Jack.”

“We'll fix it,” Jack assured him, but Geoff squeezed his eyes shut.

“It's all fucking Ryan's fault.”

It was easier to blame someone else. Especially after his confrontation with the other man last night. But Jack bit his lip, and his hands slipped from Geoff's shoulders.

“You know,” he said hesitantly. “I know Ryan's been messing with you, but he's been a good leader to his people. Better than his mother ever was. I'm wary of him too, but... he's smart enough not to start a war.”

Geoff stared at him, aghast to hear someone else defending the Mad King.

“He doesn't need to start a war,” he pointed out. “If he gets control of those mobs he can use the Wild to grow crops. He'll have no need to trade minerals with us anymore – he could cut off our main supply of metals, of coal...”

He trailed off, the full ramifications of just how _bad_ this was hitting him. And it wasn't even that – it wasn't even the economics or politics of it. It was Ryan, and the Haywoods, and their awful legacy. And how he had taken Gavin, now, the same way his family had always taken anything that they didn't even want, but just wanted to deprive other people of.

“He told me his mother wanted to kill me,” he informed Jack.

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah,” Geoff said, “She wanted to arrange a marriage and then have him off me. Take the crown for himself. So she'd have the Stoneworld, and he'd have the plains. I'm not even fucking joking, he admitted it himself.”

Jack stared at him for a long moment, taking this in.

“But they didn't,” he said softly.

“He told me he refused,” Geoff muttered.

“He stopped her then,” Jack pointed out. “He could have tried to kill you, but he didn't.”

“Doesn't fucking matter,” Geoff replied. “I'd never have accepted the proposal.”

Even in his youth, he'd never been interested in anyone else. There had only been Jack-

_And now, Gavin_ , he thought, and lowered his head into his hands with a groan.

“The amount of stress dealing with Queen Haywood brought my family...” he muttered. “Knowing we couldn't do anything to depose her without risking trade with her kingdom – and the _stories_ we'd hear, from across the border. Fucking awful things. People dying, people being tortured – villages that would starve and she didn't give a fuck. And not helping with that brought _us_ bad publicity, but there was nothing we could _do_ – not without risking a war. It made us look weak – part of that is why I'm in such a bad position now with some of the barons.”

“Your father tried,” Jack began, and Geoff shook his head.

“He tried to _investigate_ , to find evidence of what she was doing that might be enough to start a revolt against her. But all our spies ended up dead in horrible ways. Got sent back in pieces – awful things, meant to send a message. And my father couldn't do _anything_ – couldn't admit to sending them there, of course – we were just _stuck_.”

“I know,” Jack said softly. “She was an evil woman. I don't say that lightly about people.”

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

“You know they say Ryan killed her,” Geoff said abruptly, and Jack looked away.

“I know.”

“I think he did,” Geoff said, and closed his eyes briefly. “I... I really think he did it.”

“You were glad when she died,” Jack said softly. “You were glad her reign was over. We all were, even if it was Ryan who took over afterwards.”

“He covered it up, you know that, right?” Geoff pointed out. Jack's quiet acceptance of all this was pissing him off a little – he needed _someone_ to be angry with him, to hate Ryan just as much, and it was annoying that Jack wasn't giving him that - “He must have, somehow, or there'd have been an outcry. A lot of the people in the court here were loyal to her – she gave them money, land, riches. He must have silenced anyone who tried to bring it up. That makes him as bad as she was.”

“You know that's not true,” Jack chided, and Geoff slammed a fist against the wall, annoyed at being told off.

“But the _potential_ is there,” he hissed. “To _kill_ for a crown – and your own _parent_. Your own _mother_. How can you... how can you _do_ that? There are other ways. There have to be.”

Jack looked away.

“I don't know,” he admitted finally, and Geoff reached up and covered his face again, fingers pressing in against his eyes until it hurt. There was rain coming down heavily outside; the sound of drumming water against the stone fortress seemed to echo through his skull, making his head ache.

“He can't take Gavin from us,” he said finally, desperately.

“He's not going to,” Jack insisted, and moved forward, taking Geoff's wrists and pulling his hands away from his face. Shook him gently until Geoff looked up and met his eyes. “ _He's not going to_. Don't you trust Gavin? He wouldn't leave us.”

“I've upset him,” Geoff said. “I'm meant to be good at this but I've fucked up so many things-”

“You don't have to win everything, you know,” Jack said, and held up a hand when Geoff tried to speak again. “I mean it. Yes, we needed this crown. Yes, we aren't going to win it. But you've tried your best and we will make things work out somehow.”

“My best wasn't fucking enough,” Geoff retorted, but it came out tired and drained rather than angry. “It's not just the games. I've fucked up with Gavin – I should never have brought him here, should have kept him away from Ryan- we need Ray or Michael to win,” he added, when Jack seemed about to speak again. Geoff knew he was trying to help but he couldn't stand to listen to his reassurances, his optimism, right now.

Jack looked ready to lecture further, but after a moment he seemed to think better of it.

“You can make that happen,” he said instead. “If you beat Ryan in these games, he'll get less points – it'll be more of a chance for Michael to win. You're not out of things yet, Geoff – you can still do something with this. Okay?”

Geoff stared at him, and Jack reached out and gripped his shoulders again.

“Don't stop fighting,” he urged, and Geoff closed his eyes for a long moment.

He'd hurt Gavin. He'd lost miserably in the previous two games. He'd let the crown slip through his fingers.

_But you can stop Ryan. Here and now you can help stop Ryan_.

“Okay,” he murmured, and opened his eyes and looked up to see Jack's smile.

 

* * *

 

“So fucking dark,” Ray muttered, as he hurried along the corridor, heading for the stairs leading down to the archery range. As he passed a window, a violent flash of lightning had him jumping, followed seconds later by a burst of thunder so loud it made his eardrums ache. He paused, looking outside.

The storm over the Stoneworld was like nothing he'd ever seen before. They didn't get these in the desert, and even when he'd visited the alps thunderstorms had been small affairs. Snowstorms were their main concern.

But it was raining harder than anything he'd seen in his life, and for a moment he paused, transfixed. It was beautiful, in a weird way – after the constant dryness of the desert, any large amount of water tended to fascinate him. The dark clouds above seemed lit up around the edges with a hellish sort of red glow, and when there was another flash of lightning he literally saw the jagged streak of light in the distance.

Some part of himself suddenly wanted to go outside. To walk and walk through the rain and leave this stupid castle and everyone in it behind. He hadn't spoken to Michael since his outburst and hated himself for still somehow being _angry_ with the other man. None of this was Michael's fault – but his obliviousness had Ray resentful. He knew it was illogical, but he couldn't help it.

He shook himself and headed on, only to pause when he got down the stairs and saw a huge crowd of Michael's soldiers headed for the archery range. Another pang of annoyance shot through them; loud, rowdy, _strong_ – everything Michael was. Everything he _wasn't_. How could he be so stupid as to think Michael would want _him_?

He didn't want to walk past them – even if he was a king, even if objectively he knew they had to respect him, he didn't want to deal with having them look at him. With knowing what they were probably thinking. _Small. Weak. Rose King. Why would our leader marry him?_

There was a door nearby leading outside, and he opened it, deciding to head to the range that way. He might get a bit wet – it was mostly undercover, a walkway under a long verandah, but still open to the elements on one side – but he would much rather be alone, and he stepped out into the dark.

There was a strong wind, and the verandah provided little protection. He wrapped his arms around himself as he hurried along the walkway, only to pause when in the light of the redstone torches he caught sight of a hooded figure standing, staring out into the storm, leaning so far out that they must be getting wet. Ray paused, something close to fear curling in his stomach – he wasn't sure why, just that it was dark and he hadn't expected anyone to be outside – but it subsided when they turned and he realised it was just Gavin. He had his scarf pulled up over his hair – it'd made him hard to recognise.

_Just the fool._ He shook himself, feeling stupid for how nervous he'd gotten.

“King Ray,” Gavin called out, and bowed.

Ray nodded back at him. The revelation that Gavin was apparently in love with Geoff had eased his resentment a little, but he was still one of the last people he wanted to run into. But here and now it seemed different, somehow – maybe because it was raining so heavily, or because soon everyone would be going back home.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “Are you headed to the range?”

Gavin shook his head, pushing his hood back. There was a funny look on his face. Ray couldn't quite place what it was. Not quite fear, but _trepidation_ , maybe – he wasn't smiling, the way he usually always was.

“Just watching the storm,” he replied, and looked back out again. Ray followed his gaze. They were on the second storey of the fortress, and while it wasn't high enough to look out over the whole city, it still let them see quite far out.

In the distance, the wall. Beyond that, the grey expanse of the Stoneworld. Another flash of lightning lit up the landscape and for a few seconds, Ray caught a glimpse of the distant Wild. He shivered.

“King Ryan was telling me about creepers yesterday,” Gavin said suddenly – Ray turned to him, but he was still looking out into the darkness. “Apparently if they get struck by lightning, it does something to them – they start to glow and when they explode, it's twice as big.”

“I've never heard that before,” Ray replied, and Gavin shrugged.

“Might just be old wives' tales. But people here are so scared of them, especially out in the villages. What are the chances of lightning hitting right on a creeper though, right?”

“It would be a big coincidence,” Ray said, and Gavin turned back to him, head tilting.

“Big coincidence there being a huge storm like this the last day of the games,” he said – Ray felt quite uneasy suddenly as he realised he was right - “If one of you lot saw a creeper being struck by lightning, I reckon they should just win the games on the spot. It'd be an omen, right?”

“I don't believe in omens,” Ray replied, but it came out far more quiet and uncertain than he'd intended.

“I do,” Gavin said, and tugged at his scarf. “It's awful to think about, isn't it? One twist of fate and suddenly there's the potential for everything to be blasted apart. To collapse. For people to get hurt. And all it takes is one spark to set it off.”

“Well, you can stay out here and keep a watch for them,” Ray informed him. “I'll be in there winning the games by skill.”

To his surprise, Gavin laughed at that.

“Of course, my lord,” he replied. “Good luck.”

He turned away again, and Ray hesitated.

“You're not going to be there to support Geoff?” he asked, before he could quite stop himself – Gavin's shoulders stiffened so suddenly that Ray knew he'd hit a nerve, and on impulse he added, “You love him.”

It was a stupid thing to say, especially to someone he barely knew. But some vindictive part of himself wanted someone _else_ to be uncomfortable too, to be in the same situation that he was with Michael – and Gavin turned towards him slowly.

He looked at Ray for a long moment, something intense in it. Once again Ray felt uncomfortably like the fool was seeing far too much in his face – but this time, he held Gavin's gaze steadily, staring right back at him. _See what you will._

Maybe it would be stupid to say that they had a moment. If they did, it wasn't a very nice moment. But there was some mutual acknowledgement, there, that things were not okay with the people they loved. That they were in the same boat.

“It hurts,” Gavin said finally, quietly. “It's hard.”

Ray's eyes widened, something shocking through his chest like lightning. And they were obvious things, what Gavin had said – simple things, things that weren't surprising – but things that he'd needed someone else to acknowledge. To know that he wasn't the only one who felt this way. That it wasn't as selfish as he sometimes worried.

It did hurt.

It _was_ hard.

It was allowed to be.

“It's not about revenge,” Gavin continued abruptly. He turned back to the railing, one foot scuffing along the stone deck of the walkway. The gold paint on his boots had completely worn away at the toes. “There's nothing _to_ avenge. But sometimes there's a point where you just... have to do things for yourself. Instead of doing them for something you can never have. You know?”

Ray didn't know what to say. He wasn't quite sure what the fool was getting at – hadn't paid enough attention to Gavin to understand what the words meant for him.

But for _himself_ – Ray thought, suddenly, of the anger and the helplessness and everything else he'd been feeling for the last few years. How much worse it'd gotten since the proposal. How even now he could only resent how _unfair_ the lot he'd been dealt was.

There was another flash of lightning. Another crack of thunder, so close behind that it was clear the storm was right on top of them. The loud noise jerked Ray out of it a bit; he remembered suddenly what he'd been doing out here in the first place.

“I need to go,” he said, and Gavin nodded. “Don't _you_ get struck by lightning standing out here,”

Gavin gave a small smile, but there was no joy in it.

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and Ray nodded before hurrying on. He glanced over his shoulder to find Gavin still standing there, cutting a funny, lonely sort of figure with the rain pouring down around him. Ray felt suddenly sorry for him – sorry for _himself_ , too.

_Do things for yourself_ , he thought.

Was it for himself or for Michael that he'd said _yes_ to the marriage plan? He couldn't tell now, and it disturbed him that it wasn't clear.

 

* * *

 

It was lucky that there was an archery range indoors, otherwise the weather would've postponed the games. As it was, the range was an expansive room, brightly lit up with redstone, securely closed off from the wind and the elements outside.

It did, however, have enormous glass windows taking up an entire wall. They usually let some natural light in, but now they served to give everyone a great view of just how bad the storm outside was. The rain was coming down so heavily that the sound of it striking glass and stone was deafening, and the fat black clouds hung so low over the city that it almost seemed like they'd touch the tops of the buildings.

Michael stood with one hand pressed to the window, frowning a little. He wondered if Gavin was in his rooms already. He hoped he was – in this weather it would be dangerous to be climbing around. He hadn't thought it'd start raining so suddenly when he made the plan.

He had the sudden, awful image of Gavin slipping on the wet stone and plummeting to the hard ground. Breaking his neck – blood pooling under his limp form – he shook his head, furious at himself for such morbid thoughts.

_He's fine. He has to be fine_ , he thought, but bit his lip, uneasy now. _He probably got up there ages ago and is waiting inside safe and warm_.

The range was already crowded with people who'd come to watch, eager to see who would be the final winner of the games. Michael turned when a big crowd of his own soldiers entered. He smiled at them, but couldn't bring himself to go over and let them get him pumped up. He was still worried over what Gavin had told him about Ryan, and wanted more than anything just to focus.

And speak of the devil – Ryan entered then, sweeping into the room with his chin lifted, looking so confident that for a moment Michael faltered.

Ryan was _smiling_. He'd seen the other man smirk, before – or _laugh_ , mostly at Geoff – but there was something different about this. It was still obviously for show, meant to convey to the others that he was certain he'd win the crown – but there was something else under it, something far happier than any other expression Michael had seen him put on.

He narrowed his eyes at the other man.

_A secret army, huh? Not so secret any more_.

He still couldn't help wondering just _why_ Ryan had told all his plans to Gavin – how in the world Gavin had gotten him to trust him enough to do that – and, especially, how Gavin had managed to keep Ryan convinced that he wasn't going to tell anyone. It seemed like a hell of a lot of manipulation for one simple fool to have up his sleeve.

Well. However Gavin had come by this information, Michael trusted him enough to believe it.

Geoff entered the room shortly after Ryan. There was something agitated about him, and as soon as he came in he was immediately scanning the room, obviously searching for something. Jack was close behind him, and the two of them came to stand quite close to Michael. Whatever Geoff was looking for, he didn't seem to find it; his face fell once he'd looked at everyone in the room, and a moment later he leaned in close to Jack.

“He's not here,” Michael heard him say, and Jack looked up.

“He's not with Dan?”

Geoff shook his head, and Michael's heart sank as he realised they were looking for Gavin. He wasn't quite sure what was going on between all of them – why Gavin had said Geoff was angry with him – but it was clearly upsetting Geoff, even if a moment later the hurt on his face shifted to anger when his gaze turned to Ryan.

“Why the fuck is he so happy?” he hissed, and Jack just shook his head slowly.

Even the terrible weather outside, it seemed, couldn't put a damper on Ryan's mood. It wasn't as though he was dancing around or anything – he wasn't even smiling that widely – but there was something about his demeanour that was so different from the previous times Michael had seen him that it had him uneasy. It was strange; he couldn't even start to imagine what might make the Mad King smile and laugh. In Michael's head he'd always been a distant, untouchable sort of figure. A character almost, rather than a real person.

Building a secret army and plotting to take over all the other kingdoms was certainly something that figure of nightmares would do. He could hardly say he was _surprised_ – but even so, since seeing Ryan in person here, Michael could almost see why some of the rumours about him might've sprung from the sheer fact that it was the Stoneworld he ruled. It was such a grim, bleak place – so many parts of it cast in a permanent shadow – that it only made it easier to imagine its ruler being as cold and hard as his surroundings.

Still – any sympathy Michael might've had for Ryan was gone after what Gavin had told him.

_Gavin._ Yet again he tried to imagine what any one-on-one conversation between the fool and the Mad King might've been like. Spilling all his secrets to a foreign king's clown certainly didn't sound like something Ryan would so carelessly do, unless it was all part of some bigger, more cunning plan. But Gavin had seemed certain that Ryan _trusted_ him. Michael just couldn't wrap his head around it; _he'd_ fallen for Gavin very quickly, that was true – but Ryan was different. Surely he couldn't have been won over so easily.

Before he could dwell on it any further, Ray entered the room. He was a little late – everyone else was already here, and Michael could see Kerry looking over at the timepiece on the wall – and wet, too, like he'd been walking in the rain.

He looked pensive, not even smiling as all eyes turned to him, and when he moved to stand alone by the side of the room, Michael took a deep breath and crossed over to him.

“Hey,” he said, a bit awkwardly. “Are you okay?”

Ray glanced up at him. His face gave nothing away, and Michael shifted. He hated this – things had always been so easy between them, so comfortable. They'd always known exactly where they stood with each other-

(Except they _hadn't_ , apparently – apparently all along he'd known nothing at fucking _all_ – how long had he been making a fucking fool of himself for, not noticing how much _more_ this all meant to Ray, how things had _changed_ -)

More than anything, he wanted that back. That simple friendship, how _used_ to each other they'd been after spending literally years in each other's company. No matter how things turned out between them, he didn't want to lose his best friend.

But Ray, now, seemed stilted and _distant_ , barely giving Michael a nod before turning away again. Michael was left to stare sadly after him.

_Why is he still pissed at me?_ He wondered, bitterly. _None of this was_ my _fault. He was the one who blurted it out..._

He couldn't be angry with Ray, though. Not when he still felt so sad for him.

In any case, Kerry was soon calling them all to order, having to shout twice as loudly to be heard over the raucous of the storm outside.

“Everyone will shoot three arrows,” he announced, once they were settled – everyone watching standing back and the four kings in a row in front of the targets. Geoff was between Michael and Ray, and Michael could see some of the people in the audience shooting them strange looks, probably unsure why they weren't together as usual. “There are scores on the targets according to what colour you hit. Whoever has the highest total score at the end will come first. If there is a draw, we will continue shooting until someone is the definitive winner. We'll now draw lots to determine the order of competing.”

It didn't really matter all that much what order they went in – when Michael pulled the second shortest straw, he didn't much care, standing back with the others to watch as Ryan got into position to go first.

They were standing as far as possible from the targets. Michael was confident in his own abilities; he'd shot further before with a high level of accuracy. Still – it was interesting to see Ryan take up his own bow and pull the arrow back with ease, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing. He was obviously well-practiced, and when he fired, the arrow struck the target close to the centre – just one ring away from a bullseye. The Stoneworld delegation applauded, and Michael glanced over at Ray, hoping to meet his eyes, only to find the other man firmly facing away from him. He bit his lip, trying not to feel disappointed.

Geoff stepped up next. Michael saw him meet Ryan's eyes as they passed – Ryan smirked, and Geoff's jaw clenched tightly.

“Don't miss,” Ryan said snidely.

“Fuck off,” Geoff replied – remarkably restrained for him, and Ryan just laughed, undaunted, everyone watching intently as Geoff lined up his shot.

Lightning flashed outside, lighting the whole room up in an eerie glow for a moment. Michael nearly missed Geoff firing.

Considering how badly he'd performed in the chess, it wasn't a bad shot. Not quite as close to the centre as Ryan's had been, but still a solid effort. Still – he could tell Geoff was disappointed, his shoulders tense as he turned away.

Even if he was upset, he still met Michael's eyes and gave him an encouraging smile as he stepped up next – Michael nodded back. Of course Geoff wanted him to win – he realised, vaguely, that when he confronted Ryan about the army, at least Geoff would have his back. It was a comforting thought, but he was focused on the archery more than anything else now, as he lifted his own bow.

He took a deep breath. Although he was more confident with a sword than a bow, he was experienced in both. He pushed away the fact that this was a competition, that there were hundreds of eyes on him, that the crown depended on this, and let out the breath slowly, imagining that he was back in the alps, hunting – that this was any other shot he'd taken.

The distant crash of thunder didn't even distract him. He let the arrow go and watched it fly towards its target. It was the loud roars and cheers of his soldiers a second later that had him registering that he'd struck a bullseye.

He grinned, relieved – maybe once he'd've had a more exuberant reaction, but right now he was just focused on winning, and only allowed himself one exaggerated bow towards his people. Ray was already moving up to take his own shot, and again Michael tried to catch his eye, but Ray subtly turned his face away to avoid it.

There was an easy confidence to the way Ray took aim and fired. Michael knew that archery was the main form of combat he practiced, and he'd seen Ray shoot before – at moving targets, in bad weather conditions. He wasn't surprised when Ray also struck the bullseye, and again everyone except the Stoneworld delegation cheered.

Michael also clapped enthusiastically. He beamed at Ray as he walked back to the sidelines – but he _still wasn't watching_ , and Michael faltered. His chest felt tight, aching for Ray just to _look_ at him again, for the two of them to celebrate together.

There was a pause as the referees checked the scores. Outside, the storm was getting even worse. The windows were so streaked with rain that they could barely see outside, and the constant flashes of lightning every few minutes were dizzying in their intensity, every sudden bright flare of light making Michael feel like there was something wrong with his vision.

Ryan crossed over to the window, pressing a hand to the glass and wiping away some of the condensation that'd formed. Michael watched him, only to frown when Ray suddenly came up to the other king's side.

“Is this normal?” he heard him ask, and Ryan glanced down at him.

“Yes,” he replied. “Storms sweep in from the Wild quite often this time of year. The buildings can withstand it well enough, but the mines sometimes flood. Fortunately redstone isn't affected by water.”

“Useful,” Ray replied with a hum, and Michael scowled as he thought he saw Ryan smile even wider at him. They were standing very close together, and his fists clenched by his sides. He didn't like it – didn't like how Ray didn't seem uneasy or even _wary_ about Ryan's proximity. He wanted to tell him about what Gavin had said – about how Ryan was about to directly become their _enemy_ – but he couldn't exactly stroll up and tell him right here and now.

Especially not when Ray seemed entirely unbothered by Ryan being right fucking next to him. Gods, what was going _on_ here?

Geoff was also watching them, and when Michael looked over at him, the other king raised his eyebrows, seeming just as puzzled. Michael's frown deepened. A second later they were being called back over to continue, however, and Ray left Ryan's side to take his place after Michael again.

Ryan took another shot, still smiling. He hit the same ring as before, just shy of a bullseye, and seemed pleased with it. Given the distance, it was a good shot for someone who probably didn't specialise in archery. Michael was grudgingly impressed – and even more so when, a moment later, Geoff hit the target in exactly the same spot.

“Good work,” Jack murmured, when Geoff went to stand next to him again; Michael saw Geoff shoot him a small, grateful smile, and felt another aching tug. He and Ray used to look at each other like that. He was sorely missing it now, those little reassurances as he moved up to take his own turn.

He'd felt out of his depth in the chess. It was a relief to be doing something he so deeply _understood_ again – he didn't overthink it, just aimed and fired.

Another perfect bullseye.

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he let the cheers of his men wash over him. One of them let out a particularly shrill scream that under any other circumstances would have probably had Ray in fits of laughter; now when Michael looked over at the other man he was _golf clapping_ , and Michael bit his lip, hurt. He forced himself to push it away. _You're beating Ryan. That's what matters._

“Hey,” Geoff said, when Michael went back over to them – he reached out and touched Michael's arm, and despite how tired and worn down he'd looked earlier, there was something encouraging in his eyes. “You're doing well.”

“Thanks,” Michael replied – Jack also smiled at him, and he forced a smile back. They were being oddly soft with him and he wondered if some of his upset over Ray was showing in his face. He didn't make a habit of concealing his emotions, not like he knew Ray and Ryan both did.

Ray was stepping up as well now. He fired without warning and they all turned to look.

Another bullseye. Both he and Michael had perfect scores so far. That would usually be worth at _least_ a high-five, right? And two days ago Michael would've jumped at Ray, hugged him – even _kissed_ him, for the show of the others.

_At least we're winning_ , he told himself, even if it really didn't fucking feel like it. Not with rain pouring down outside and Ray ignoring him and that sinking dread still in the pit of his stomach, like no matter how well things were going for him now, it was all about to change.

_Don't be stupid_ , he told himself – _it's the storm, it's getting to you –_ the natural conditions of the alps were so dangerous that any bad weather tended to be seen as some sort of omen.

The whole room waited in a tense silence for the final round to began. Those watching didn't even whisper among themselves. It seemed a little unreal – that the firing of a single arrow would determine who was to be King.

Even Ryan's smile had faded, a hard and determined set to his face when Kerry finally nodded for him to take his last shot. Michael's stomach was churning as he watched the other king take aim. It was so dark outside by now that the only light was coming from the redstone on the walls, and against the windows Michael could see them all reflected – Ryan, his arrow drawn back – Geoff and Jack standing anxiously beside him – Ray, a little apart from them all. The shadowy figures of four kings trapped in the glass. Jack fitting easily among them, like he somehow belonged there.

Ryan fired, and immediately let out a disappointed hiss. It was a weaker shot than the others he'd taken, a few rings away from the bullseye. Michael's heart pounded as he realised suddenly that victory was well within his grasp.

Geoff was openly laughing, ignoring the dirty looks Ryan's delegations were shooting at him. Ryan himself just gave the other man a blank stare as he swept out of the way, Geoff moving in to take his place.

If he struck a bullseye, he could outscore Ryan – Michael could see Geoff's hand shaking a little as he took aim. Saw him pause, taking a deep breath and steadying himself.

He was being too careful, Michael thought worriedly. Overthinking it too much. The range was dead silent except for the rain outside-

When out of nowhere a great crash of thunder came from outside, just as Geoff released the arrow. It was so loud that it sounded as though part of the building was collapsing – previously the thunder and lightning had hit nearly in unison, but as the storm moved on slightly there'd been a longer pause between them. It took all of them by surprise – and it royally fucked Geoff over, his arm jerking as he jumped, the arrow flying askew and only barely hitting the rim of the target.

“ _Fuck_!” he yelled, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

Ryan didn't hide his laughter this time either, and Geoff rounded on him furiously, actually throwing his bow down on the ground as he strode towards him.

“Geoff,” Jack snapped, moving in and snagging his arm – Ryan watched the two of them calmly, eyebrows raised. Geoff was breathing heavily, glaring at him – but after a moment he seemed to register that everyone was watching them, and his anger simmered away a little. He turned to face Michael, who had been moving up to take his own turn.

“Don't fuck this up,” he ordered, and Michael nodded, reality seeming to flood in all of a sudden.

Everything depended on him.

He couldn't quite ignore that – couldn't block out the crowds, and the pressure, and the storm as well as he had in earlier rounds as he carefully took aim. Another flash of lightning made the target spin dizzily before his eyes; he blinked, clearing his vision.

_Come on. Come_ on.

He fired.

It was a good shot. Not as perfect as his last ones, but it hit just on the edge of the bullseye – not quite on the centre ring, but close enough that it was clear that he had beaten Ryan.

He'd beaten _Ryan_.

The Alpine delegation burst out into roars and even Michael threw his head back and let out a whooping cheer. He could hear Geoff shrieking with laughter behind them – turned to see Ryan's smile had grown tight, his face as careful a mask as it always was – but there was a swelling elation in his chest.

They'd _won-_

Except a second later, Ray nudged Michael aside, raising his own bow, and everyone stilled and went silent. Michael remembered, abruptly, that the games weren't over yet.

Ray still had one shot left.

All he needed to do was throw it – get anything worse than a bullseye and Michael would have this in the bag. And Michael was expecting him to play it up – to jokingly fire at the ceiling, or the floor, or a completely different target to the one they were aiming for.

“Hey,” he said, quietly enough that no one around them could hear – Ray's eyes flicked over to him, even if he didn't turn his head - “Let's win this.”

Ray didn't smile. He just turned back to the target, and Michael stepped back, suddenly uneasy. There was an odd look on Ray's face – strained, lips drawn tight and something burning in his dark eyes – his arrow wavered, circling the target-

And then he shot directly at the centre, and hit the bullseye.

There was a moment of silence as everyone took in what had just happened. Michael didn't quite register for a minute exactly what'd just occurred.

Then the crowd erupted into confused roars – murmurs from the Stoneworld, shock from the desert and plains, anger from the Alps-

_What the fuck_ , was all Michael could think, staring at the arrow quivering in the centre of the target. It still wasn't quite sinking in. _What... what the_ fuck?

Ray lowered his arm. He was trembling, Michael realised vaguely – but his face was as blank and stern as it had been earlier as he finally, finally turned and met Michael's eyes. Michael stared back at him, so confused that he didn't have words – Ray just looked at him for a long moment, face unreadable, before turning away.

“Well then,” Ryan intoned behind them, and Michael turned towards him mechanically. If Ryan had been surprised by what'd happened, he'd recovered from it by now, and there was a smug little smile tugging at his lips. Beside him, Geoff was shocked, his mouth hanging wide open. Michael met _his_ eyes, a mutual confusion passing between them.

_'What the fuck just happened?'_ Geoff mouthed, and Michael could only shake his head, as lost as he was.

“Attention!” Kerry was yelling, but the crowds were too noisy for him to be heard. “ _Attention_!”

Michael realised, vaguely, that it was his warriors causing most of the noise. He raised a hand without really thinking about it, and suddenly the entire range fell silent but for the drumming of the rain.

“After adding up the scores,” Kerry said – and there was confusion in his voice too - “King Geoff has placed last in this event. King Ryan has placed third, King Michael second, and King Ray first. Because of this, there is now an overall tie between Kings Michael and Ryan, at eighteen points.”

_Gods,_ it dawned on Michael with horror, _I haven't won yet after all!_

He turned towards Ray, eyes huge – had Ray gotten confused somehow? Maths had never been either of their strong points – had he somehow been convinced that _he_ was the one meant to win this challenge? That was the only reason Michael could come up with.

Geoff's face had clouded over at the announcement. He rounded on Ray, reaching out and grabbing his arm, shaking him roughly.

“What the fuck, Ray?” he demanded.

“Don't touch me,” Ray snapped, shaking him off. He looked a little dazed, but also _annoyed –_ and, above all, unsurprised by the announcement.

It was that which made Michael realise – he'd done it _deliberately_ , and he felt his stomach drop so suddenly that he nearly felt dizzy. He stared at Ray, shocked and hurt, and the other man avoided his gaze.

He had no idea what was going on.

What was this? Was Ray breaking the engagement – breaking their _alliance_ – was this some way of telling him that? And if he _was_ , Michael couldn't _tell_ , because he didn't like things like that going unspoken – needed it all spelled out clearly – but surely not, not _Ray_ , he wouldn't do something like that – wouldn't risk everything they'd so carefully planned.

But he _had_.

It was raining. Somehow that was all Michael could register as he stood, staring at the side of Ray's face – the constant, thundering rain in the background. A continual _noise_ that wouldn't let up, that seemed to reverberant through his skull. It felt like a bad dream. It was raining, and everything was going wrong.

“Michael,” a voice called, and he jerked, coming back to himself to find Geoff staring at him. There was worry in his eyes, and Michael realised suddenly that he had to face Ryan again. Had to _win this_ again. “We need to pick a game for the tie breaker.”

“Right,” Michael said, and shook himself. He looked past Geoff and found Ryan watching him, eyes narrowed.

He was surprised the other man wasn't gloating about what Ray had done. That would probably come later, if Ryan won. And the sudden awful thought struck Michael, suddenly – _did Ryan put Ray up to this?_ He'd heard stories – terrible stories – about Ryan's silver tongue, his ability to manipulate people, to talk them into things they'd never thought they wanted. After seeing how close the two had been before, it suddenly seemed awfully possible.

But he pushed it aside – forced himself not to think about Ray, to refocus _._

_You can still win this_.

“I assume combat's out of the question,” he said, and Ryan's head tilted.

“Indeed,” he replied, smoothly. “Nothing in which your gift gives you an advantage.”

“Well, I don't want to play chess again,” Michael said, and Ryan gave a thoughtful hum.

“How about cards?” he asked, and Michael frowned, staring at him for a long moment, trying to puzzle out if this was some trick, some area in which Ryan could cheat him. The other man gazed steadily back at him. If there was something going on here, Michael couldn't see it. He was sure Geoff had his back, anyway – that he'd be keeping a close eye on Ryan to make sure no foul play occurred.

“What game?” he asked carefully, and Ryan thought for a moment.

“Do you know how to play _Spit_?” he asked, and after a moment of confused explaining from Kerry, complete with enthusiastic hand gestures, Michael nodded.

“We call it _Slam_ in my kingdom. But yes, I know it.”

“It is a test of speed, reflexes, observance, and basic mathematical skill. I trust you possess all of those,” Ryan said wryly, and Michael scowled at the thinly veiled insult. “If you are agreeable, we can play to the best of three rounds.”

"I agree on the condition that we use my playing cards,” Michael replied. “You can examine them, of course. But I brought some with me and as you picked the game, I'd be reassured if I got to provide the deck.”

“That sounds fine,” Ryan replied.

The crowd was still murmuring behind them, and when Michael glanced over the faces of the courtiers Ray had brought with him were stony and hard. They didn't look happy at this turn of events – he could only wonder, still, just what the hell had been going through Ray's head. It seemed a little unreal, that the fate of the Wild crown would come down to who won a _card game_.

Still – it was what it was, and he left the range and headed up to his chambers to get his cards.

There was literally no one in the rest of the fortress – everyone had gone to watch the games. It was unsettling to walk alone through the building, the sound of the storm still audible outside, everything still dark as night. He wondered what Gavin would say when he heard about what had happened – when Michael told him that there was _still_ no winner.

_Slam_ was also not the most kingly of card games. He'd seen children playing it – had as a child himself, growing up. Mostly against Ray.

_Ray_ , he thought, aching, but pushed it aside.

He realised something was wrong the second he unlocked opened the door to his chambers.

The room was freezing cold. The window was open, that was why – and the heavy wind that had swept through it had the curtains billowing out every few minutes, a shifting movement in the dark room that made Michael jump until he turned on the redstone lights and realised what it was. It was then that he noticed the sheen of water over the floor where rain had come in through the open window.

Gavin was not there.

Michael's stomach lurched; he'd been so _certain_ the other man would be in here waiting for him. Had he never come in at all?

“Gavin?” he called out, quietly.

There was no reply from him, and when Michael peered into the adjoining washroom, he wasn't in there either. Something felt wrong – a chill creeping down his spine as he walked over to the window and looked out, some paranoid part of himself still fearing that Gavin had fallen while climbing and would be lying sprawled at the bottom.

No sign of him. All he could see was the dark drop down to the courtyard below – there wasn't a soul in sight. He closed the window and turned back to his room, frowning-

And that was when he realised his sword was missing.

It was too large to carry around with him constantly, so he'd been keeping it resting against the wall by the side of his bed. It had been there when he came in earlier to open the window. But there was a noted absence there now, and his heart skipped a beat.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he said aloud – he hurried over, bending to peer under the bed in case it'd fallen – not there.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said again – still more confused than anything else, as he hurriedly searched the room.

It was gone.

It was fucking _gone_ , and he just – couldn't quite _understand_ it, because that sword was so fucking heavy that _no one_ should have been able to take it out of the room easily. Not to mention, the door had been locked! He had the only key-

Except for Ryan, or his staff, he realised with a sinking feeling- could Ryan have set one of _them_ up to take it?

_But Gavin,_ he thought suddenly, and didn't know what to think. The other man should have been _in here_. Had he encountered whoever had come in and taken the sword?

_Could_ he _have taken it_? he thought suddenly – but Gavin hadn't even been able to lift the damn thing, let alone carry it out the window!

Dear gods. What the hell was going on here?

He wandered back over to the window and froze as he noticed a muddy footprint on the carpet near the bed. So Gavin _had_ been in here.

Well, he sure wasn't now.

Why the fuck would he _leave_ again?

For a long moment he stood in the middle of the room, staring stupidly at the footprint with no idea what to do. Nothing made sense – and eventually, he realised with a jolt that he'd taken too long, and turned and walked back to the range with his head spinning, still not quite sure what to make of all this.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for him in a rather awkward silence; Ray had split apart from the others, arms folded – he was the only one who didn't turn to look at Michael when he arrived, empty-handed.

“Geoff,” Michael called out as he entered, a bit helplessly.

Geoff strode over to him immediately.

“What's wrong?” he demanded.

He must have sensed something was wrong. Maybe Michael had an odd look on his face; he had no idea. But somehow, weirdly, he felt like the oldest king would know what to do. Even if Geoff had struggled in the competition, even if he had barely been holding himself together – out of everyone here, he was still the one who Michael felt the most reassured by, some remnant of his childhood hero-worship rising back up.

He ushered Geoff over and leaned in, speaking quietly into his ear.

“I don't even know where to start,” he said. “But Gavin came to me this morning and said Ryan had told him he was planning something – building an army, or something like that. He didn't have time to explain properly, but he didn't want to come here so I told him to wait in my room for me to tell me more later. He was meant to come in through the window so no one would know. Except I just went up and he isn't in there? He left footprints so I know he climbed in but then... I don't know, left again? And my sword has disappeared from the room too, I just... I have no idea what's happening.”

Geoff was silent for a moment, processing this.

“What the fuck,” he hissed back, finally. “I... okay. He was definitely in there?”

“Unless someone _else_ climbed in the window, yes.”

“Anything else missing?”

“I don't know,” Michael replied, “I didn't really look – the sword was the most obvious thing that was gone. I _know_ someone took it – but that thing's heavy as shit, Geoff. Without my gift, no one could move it around easily. It's enchanted.”

Geoff considered this for a moment. Then he turned and abruptly rounded on Ryan, striding towards him angrily.

“What the fuck have you done with him?” he shouted – Michael stared at him, confused, and Ryan looked equally blank. Before he could respond, Geoff snatched up his bow and took an arrow from his quiver, drawing it back to point directly at Ryan.

The other king stiffened, and there was a shout of alarm from the crowd, some of Ryan's soldiers and servants starting forward angrily. Jack also jolted, eyes widening.

“What have you _done_ with him?” Geoff repeated – at Ryan's blank stare, he added, “ _Gavin_ , you son of a bitch! Where the fuck is he?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Ryan said coolly, and Geoff stepped towards him furiously, the bow still raised.

“You were with him last night,” he accused.

“Put that down, you fool,” Ryan snapped, but there was something almost close to concern in his voice. “He's missing?”

“What's this about a secret army?” Geoff added, and Ryan's shoulders went very tense.

“What?” he asked again. It was clear to Michael, suddenly, that he hadn't put Gavin up to anything – that he hadn't intended for him to go to Michael, that this wasn't all part of some complicated, devious plan. He seemed genuinely surprised that his secret was out. “Where did you hear about that?”

“Lower the bow, King Ramsey,” a woman shouted, and Geoff glanced over his shoulder to see Ryan's captain of the guard standing with her sword drawn. Behind her, several of the Stoneworld soldiers had their own arrows nocked and aimed at him.

“Geoff,” Jack said softly, and with a scowl Geoff lowered his bow, though his hand went instead to the dagger at his belt.

“I haven't touched Gavin,” Ryan said, and Geoff looked at him again, eyes blazing. “Last night he left my laboratory and we parted ways. I haven't seen him since. He did mention that he wasn't intending to come and watch the games today. Have you tried his rooms?” he added, snidely.

“He wasn't in his rooms this morning,” Jack piped up, and Ryan glanced at him, something in his face softening minutely.

“Uhh,” Ray spoke up, and everyone's heads snapped around to him – he seemed hesitant for a moment, then continued, “I saw Gavin outside a few moments before coming in here, actually.”

“Doing what?” Geoff demanded.

“He was out on the deck watching the storm,” Ray said, gesturing towards the side of the fortress where the verandah was.

“He must've come to my rooms after that,” Michael replied – everyone except Geoff shot him confused looks, not having been privy to his explanation. For their benefit, he added, “Someone stole my sword from my chambers.”

Ray shot him a _what the fuck_ look, and Michael glanced over at him – despite the situation, unable to help being glad that they'd at least _interacted_ , even in such a minor capacity.

“So where the fuck is he now?” Geoff snarled, and took another threatening step towards Ryan. “If anything has happened to that boy I will burn your fucking fortress to the ground, I swear to the gods-”

“Have fun trying to burn stone,” Ryan replied, unfazed.

Geoff let out a literal _growl_ , and Ryan raised his eyebrows.

“Look,” he added, a little more genuinely, “I haven't seen Gavin since last night. I'm as concerned for him as you are.”

“Sure you are,” Geoff snapped, and Ryan scowled, suddenly seeming properly angry. A moment later he wrestled his face back into blankness.

“We'll stop the games and go find him,” he announced. “I'm sure he's around here somewhere.”

There was silence from the crowd. It was Ray who piped up with what they were probably all thinking.

“Pausing the crown games to look for a _fool_?” he demanded.

“And for my sword,” Michael cut in. “I still have no idea how someone could pick it up.”

“That is curious,” Ryan agreed. He turned to his people and ordered, “Stop the games. Find Ramsey's fool – search the entire premises. It's unlikely he's outside due to the weather, but if he did leave the castle grounds the guards would have seen him.”

His tone of voice left nothing to be argued, and everyone began to trickle out of the range. Ryan turned back to Geoff.

"I'm sure he's just napping somewhere,” he said, and Geoff frowned at him before turning on his heel and marching off, Jack close behind him.

Michael made to start his own search, but Ryan moved up next to him and caught his arm.

“Secret army?” he hissed into Michael's ear. “Gavin told you that, did he?”

Michael shook his grip off easily and stared up at him, face cold.

“He's scared of you,” he replied, and Ryan's eyes widened a little. “When we find him I'd better not see you go anywhere near him. If you did anything to him...”

For a moment, he could have sworn Ryan looked hurt. He stared at Michael in silence before turning and leaving, and Michael headed off on his own hunt. His heart was racing, that looming dread had grown even more intense, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were _too late_ – that something awful had already happened and they were helpless to stop it.

 

* * *

 

Gavin was not in the barracks.

Michael went to search there – taking the time to carefully check the courtyard all around and under his bedroom window, as well – but there was no sign of him. Dan was also looking around the same area, and Michael could tell from his face that he was worried. A lot of Geoff's other soldiers seemed to be as well, and Michael remembered how well Gavin had seemed to get on with them – remembered the concern on Ryan's face as well. Little Mr. Popular around most people, it seemed.

The loss of his sword was still bugging him. It was just so absurd that he wasn't even _worried_ about it yet – still couldn't quite fathom that someone had actually _taken it_. When it sank in, he knew he'd be pissed off – that weapon was one of a kind and he wasn't able to get another one. It'd be a big loss if it never showed up again, yet somehow he knew that it would. Something that big and that fucking sparkly was pretty hard to hide.

He returned despondently (and soaking wet from the heavy rain) to the range to find people standing around in clusters, muttering amongst themselves. It only took one look at their faces to see that no one else had had any luck – Michael's men, too, were shaking their heads and casting worried looks at their leader.

It seemed the tension had spread. Everyone seemed to have realised there was something going on here, something bigger than just a single absent fool.

Ray returned in silence – Michael didn't know where, or _if_ , he'd been looking – but before they could interact Geoff strode up, with Jack in tow. It was clear that he was covering his fear with faux-anger; he was scowling, but there was something frantic in his movements as he approached, and behind him Jack looked more concerned than Michael had ever seen him.

“The gate guards didn't see him,” he announced – he was addressing Michael more than the other people in the room, but his voice was loud enough to carry, and everyone fell silent. “But it's possible he snuck out. He used to be a thief, he knows what he's doing.”

“The dark wouldn't help either,” Michael agreed, remembering how easily Gavin had blended into the shadows when the two of them climbed the watch tower.

Ryan entered the room again, and they all turned to him only to freeze. He looked stony-faced and cold suddenly, an odd contrast to his previous smug dismissiveness, and when he walked up to them he _hesitated_ , seeming unsure.

“King Ryan?” Jack asked, and Ryan _jolted_ , turning to look at him. Jack stared back at him, something pleading in it. “Did you find something?”

“I... yes.” Ryan's control was more rattled than Michael had ever seen him; sensing something was up, they all gazed at him, waiting, even Ray inching closer. “I've just been down to my laboratory. Potions of strength and swiftness are missing. Gavin was aware they were there and of everyone here, he had the opportunity to steal the key. I know he's certainly capable of it.”

There was a long silence as they all took this in. Michael's confusion had only escalated – he still had no idea what was happening, what Gavin was _doing_ – why he would have robbed _Ryan_ as well – there was something oddly vacant in the other king's expression. Like he was struggling to wrap his head around all this as well, and for someone who was usually completely on top of everything going on, it only made Michael feel even more out of his depth.

Geoff and Jack looked just as confused as he felt.

“Potions?” Jack asked finally, and Ryan nodded.

“Indeed,” he replied, and turned to Michael. “With a potion of strength he could have picked up your sword easily.”

“What the fuck,” Ray said, and they looked over at him. “So – let me get this straight – you're suggesting he stole the key to Ryan's lab, went into said lab and stole potions, climbed through Michael's window and stole his fucking _sword_ , and then disappeared? Why would he _do_ that?”

“Did he say anything to you outside?” Michael asked, and Ray hesitated suddenly, his face shuttering over.

“I... maybe,” he replied, helpfully, and Geoff threw his hands up.

“Why would he want your sword? What could he be _doing_?” he demanded, and Ryan shook himself. When he spoke again his voice was hard, annoyed almost, the same blank coldness taking over his face again.

“Well, the first step would be to actually _find him_ ,” he replied. “If Ray saw him just before coming in, he can't have been gone long. Use the Sight and track him down. That's the one thing you're good for, isn't it?”

Geoff didn't even rise to his barb, a testament to how worried he must've been.

“Yeah,” was all he said. “I... I can find him that way.”

Ryan turned to the crowds watching them.

“Anyone who's only here because they have nothing better to do, get out,” he ordered, and Michael waved at his own men – he knew they'd go and make themselves useful looking for his sword around the place on the off-chance it wasn't Gavin who had it. Before long only a few of Geoff, Ryan and Ray's counsellors were left in the room, and they all turned to Geoff expectantly.

“Well then,” Ryan said, and there was something funny in his voice – like he was trying to sound angry, but it was forced, covering something else - “Find our missing fool.”

 

* * *

 

Geoff had no idea what was going on.

He'd thought, when Gavin didn't show up during the archery, that the other man must be sulking somewhere. That he was off wandering around, or watching the storm – clearing his head and letting off steam.

Not gone, not _disappeared_ , and there was a painful knot in the pit of his stomach now.

He was scared for Gavin.

Scared, but also very, very confused, because why the hell would Gavin want Michael's sword – if he had taken it – why would he have gone _anywhere_? Why would he have apparently robbed _Ryan_ – although that part of the story, at least, gave him hope that Ryan hadn't won him over after all. That maybe this had all been some play.

Even so – he was concerned Gavin might be in danger, and finding him was his only priority right now, the crown and Ryan be damned.

It was strange to use the Sight with so many people watching him. But Jack stepped up then, and put a hand on his arm, smiling at him reassuringly. His touch was warm and grounding. Geoff knew that he'd be brought straight back to his body if anyone started messing with him physically while he was travelling – but it was still nice, knowing someone was watching over him.

He closed his eyes, and called on his gift.

A familiar, cold sensation flooded him. For a moment he felt almost lightheaded, like he was floating – then his eyes snapped open and he stepped out of his body.

It was always a little strange, taking that first movement _away_ from your physical form. Everything looked desaturated, colours faded and washed out. He turned and looked at himself – head thrown back, eyes glowing white. Michael and Ray had both moved up and were staring at him, obviously intrigued. Ryan, as usual, was inscrutable. Geoff turned away from them all and strode out of the range before bracing himself and sending his consciousness flying right up through the ceiling, rushing through every storey of the fortress before landing on the roof.

The storm was raging above them; when he tipped his head back he could see the churning masses of black clouds and sense just how much water was still left in them. It was a little strange, not feeling the rain against his skin – it fell straight through him – in this dreamlike world where everything looked brighter despite the darkness, ghostly almost.

It wasn't called the _Sight_ for nothing; he could see ridiculous distances in this form, not to mention he could almost sense what he was looking for. He let himself rise again, floating over the fortress walls and up above the city, letting his consciousness spread and settle over the landscape, searching for any hint of Gavin.

He was so familiar with the other man that tracking him was easy – the more time you spent with someone, the faster you could sense them, could pick their particular consciousness out of everything else. He thought of the soft green of Gavin's scarf, of his light fleet-footed step, his bright eyes. And even more than that – his constant warmth, the thrumming energy he always seemed to possess. Something just uniquely _Gavin_ that Geoff knew so well yet couldn't explain.

The streets below him were rushing with water. There was no one in sight, not with the weather this bad. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and particularly the expanses of the Stoneworld that were outside the range of the city's lights. Geoff sensed a flash of movement out there, and focused in on it.

_Gavin_. As soon as he moved closer he recognised the other man's consciousness immediately, and flew towards him. He was outside the city, out in the darkness of the Stoneworld – as Geoff got closer, he could see him, a small dot of red light moving inhumanly fast across the landscape.

_What the fuck is he doing out here?_ He thought, and flew towards him. He rushed towards the ground – it always put a funny lurch in his stomach, even if he knew he couldn't fall in this form – and sped towards the light.

And there was Gavin.

There were no roads out here, between the city and the Wild. Just uneven rock ground under their feet – boulders everywhere, chasms and small ridges. But Gavin was picking his way quickly across them. For someone who was usually quite clumsy, he could be nimble as hell when he put his mind to it, and he was jumping over the obstacles in his path and deftly avoiding any dips or inclines that were too steep with ease.

A redstone torch in one hand, glowing brightly, lit his path. He was clutching Michael's sword in the other as though it weighed no more than a regular sword. He was also running far faster than should have been possible. _Potion of swiftness_ , Geoff noted, absently.

But one thing was clear.

He was heading for the Wild.

_What the fuck_ , was Geoff's first thought – as it registered, alarm shot through him – _not the Wild, Gavin can't be in there – he'll be dead in ten seconds – what the fuck can he possibly want to go_ there _for, in this weather and_ alone?

He moved in front of Gavin and turned to face him, flying backwards to keep pace with him. Tucked under Gavin's jacket to keep it safe from the rain, he could see the edge of a bit of parchment, and with a jolt he recognised it as one of the maps he'd been keeping in his room – the ones he'd planned the route to the crown on.

It was not hard not figure out what Gavin was going for.

_What the hell_ , Geoff thought again, as he moved back and watched Gavin run and run – he was about halfway to the border now, and making steady progress. Geoff wanted to appear to him, to demand answers, but Gavin was moving far too fast and it took a lot of energy for him to move when he materialised with the Sight. It was a lot easier just to stand in one spot, which was fine for communicating when the other person was also staying still.

Unsure what to do, he rushed back to his body and opened his eyes again with a gasp. It was always a bit of a shock suddenly _feeling_ things again – the warmth of the room, heated by the redstone on the walls. The sound of the rain outside and the brightness of every colour around him.

Jack's hand was still on his arm. When he noticed Geoff was back, he squeezed his shoulder.

“Did you find him?” he demanded. Geoff looked up at him, still recovering himself, and Jack's brow furrowed in concern. “Geoff? What's happening?”

“He's headed for the Wild,” Geoff replied, and pointed. “He's outside the city. About halfway there.”

“What?” Michael asked.

“Why?” Jack demanded at the same time.

“The crown,” Geoff replied, still struggling to wrap his own head around it. “He has one of the maps to the crown-”

“The _fuck_ ,” Michael snapped – there was an outpouring of angry murmurs from the counsellors still in the room.

“He's stealing the fucking crown?” Ray demanded. “What, does _he_ want it now-”

“No,” one of Ryan's courtiers – an elderly, mean-looking fellow – snarled, stepping forward. He pointed a finger accusingly at Geoff. “You put him up to this, didn't you, Ramsey? You bring some... some random _clown_ here. Think no one will suspect him. And then, when you don't win the games yourself, you put him up to running off and trying to get the crown for you while no one is looking!”

Geoff spluttered indignantly. Ray had raised his eyebrows, turning to Geoff questioningly – Michael looked torn, like he didn't want to believe it but couldn't deny the possibility – and Ryan's shoulders had gone very stiff.

“I haven't fucking put Gavin up to anything!” Geoff snapped, and then hesitated. “But... it's not impossible that he's doing this to try and get it for me. I... I know he wants to help me win it. Maybe he thought this was the best way.”

Until that little incident with Ryan during the chess, Gavin had always been fiercely loyal. And this sort of stupid, impulsive plan was the sort of thing he'd do – he'd never been one to properly think things through.

_Shit,_ Geoff thought, _did he do this for_ me? _He would, I know he would... idiot,_ idiot-

“What the fuck,” Michael managed. He seemed annoyed – but below that, still worried and unsure. “So all that shit he told me about Ryan and an army...”

“Oh, I don't doubt _that_ was true,” Geoff scoffed, shooting Ryan a glare – the other man glowered back - “But he must have known he was going to do this. That's why he found a way to get into your rooms – why he stole the key from Ryan – he didn't tell me because I would have stopped him. It's too dangerous for him to go alone.”

“If he has the sword,” Jack said, voice tight, “Then he's definitely going for the crown. He must be planning to fight whatever the fuck killed the previous Wild king, if it's still in that cave.”

A cold shock struck Geoff, like being doused in ice water. Gavin – scrawny little Gavin, Gavin who could barely hold a sword, who Geoff could carry and throw around with ease – he was a lot of things, fast and clever and agile, but he certainly wasn't _strong_ , and whatever had killed the Wild king had ripped the guy to fucking shreds.

“Oh my fucking gods,” he managed – his chest was seized up with fear, making it hard to breathe - “We need to find him before he gets there. That thing will _kill him_. No...”

Jack had also gone pale. It was Ryan who spoke up then, something oddly cold in his voice.

“We can catch up,” he said. “He's on foot – even with the potions of swiftness, we can go just as fast on horseback. We'll go after him and stop him. He _cannot_ get that crown.”

“Wait,” Ray spoke up. “Everyone's going together? One big group?”

“That'd be safer,” Michael agreed. “A big group will stand a better chance against mobs. We'll bring soldiers, too-”

“Not too many,” Ryan snapped. “What I never wanted here was an outright war over the crown. That was never the purpose of these games.”

“Says the guy building a fucking secret army,” Geoff snarled.

“Michael and I still have the right to the crown,” Ryan snapped back, and turned to Michael. “Your men are fierce warriors. I have no desire to pit my soldiers against yours. We stop Gavin, and then whoever slays the beast – if it's still there – gets the crown themselves. Is that agreeable? But I don't want us bringing so many men there that we are able to have a big fight in which many might be hurt or worse.”

It was a funnily pacifist attitude from someone Geoff had thought capable of remorseless violence. Michael considered this for a moment.

“How many then?” he asked.

“Two soldiers each,” Ryan said.

“I agree,” Michael replied.

“I'm coming too,” Ray piped up, and Ryan scowled.

“Then I get four soldiers,” he snapped, “Since you're as good as allied with Michael.”

The two kings exchanged glances, and Geoff frowned a little – something was wrong between them, that much was clear, and it was still beyond him why Ray had fucked up Michael's victory during the archery. Michael looked away first, seeming unsure. It was Ray who answered.

“No,” he said. “Two each – that's the deal _you_ made. Marry Geoff if you're so fucking worried about it.”

Geoff jolted, just at the proposition. Ryan just looked annoyed, but it was clear he didn't have time to argue about it right now.

“Fine. You have fifteen minutes to prepare, then we meet at the stables. Arm yourselves,” he added, already turning to leave the room. “The Wild is dangerous and none of you have encountered mobs before.”

Suddenly everything was a blur of noise and movement as people rushed out of the room to go and get ready. Geoff glanced at Jack, but there were still too many around them – they could talk back in their rooms.

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes was not a lot of time. Geoff was in a frantic rush as he got his armour on, Jack helping him with patient fingers even if he himself looked incredibly pained. As soon as the last strap was buckled, Geoff snatched up his sword, throwing it onto the bed before casting about for his own bow.

This was not how he'd anticipated going into the Wild – in such terrible weather, with all the other kings, and in search of _Gavin_ – but here they were. He didn't have time to dwell on it.

“Why the fuck would he do this?” he rambled, as he found his bow and grabbed up a quiver of arrows, too. “So fucking stupid and _dangerous_. He must be getting it for us, right? Why else would he go in there?”

“It seems like the sort of reckless thing he'd do,” Jack agreed. His voice was very soft and Geoff froze in his movements, looking up at the other man.

He had never seen Jack so terrified. It was almost worse than the times he'd seen him freak out and panic – something quiet and almost _sad_ in it this time. Like he just wasn't processing that Gavin, _their_ Gavin, was in such terrible danger right now. Was out there alone in the dark and cold and wet, about to head into the deadliest kingdom in the land on his _own_.

It made Geoff sick to think about.

“After last night,” he began hesitantly. “After what happened with Ryan I thought he... I don't know. I don't _know_.” He put his head in his hands with a groan. “Just – stupid, _stupid_ , why would he _do this_? If anything happens to him...”

Jack bit his lip.

“Gavin survived for a long time before we took him in,” he said, but the usual certainty of his optimism was absent. “We'll find him and bring him back. We _will_.”

Geoff couldn't think of a reply. He turned and went to the luggage he'd brought with him, unlocking it and taking out the crown that rested on top of all his other belongings.

The plains crown was the heaviest of the five, or so he'd heard – he'd never seen the Wild one. It was made of solid, thick gold, and had the most traditional design of all of them, a hoop crown with two looping half-arches. The only proper decorations on the whole affair were engravings on the gold itself – little carved designs that resembled eyes.

It was an uncomfortable thing to wear, and Geoff rarely did. Every king guarded their crown closely, knowing that if anything were to happen to them, their successor depended on getting to it first. It was why they'd kept them locked in their rooms while here rather than wearing them all over the place.

Now, he turned and offered it to Jack.

“If anything happens to me out there,” he said fiercely, “If I don't come back, you put this on. Stay here in the room – lock the door – don't open it unless someone from our delegation comes.”

“No,” Jack said immediately, and Geoff froze in shock. “I'm coming with you.”

“Don't be stupid,” Geoff snapped. “You are fucking not. I'll bring Dan – and Matt, I think, better to have a good archer with us since I'm better with a sword than a bow.”

“I'm _coming_ ,” Jack insisted, and Geoff scowled at him.

“You're not combat trained! Don't make me have to worry about you as well-”

“I can't just sit here,” Jack burst out, with rare, genuine _anger_. “I can't just _fucking sit here_ while both of you are out there, Geoff! Out there in the Wild where, where anything could happen – where you could both get hurt or _worse_ and I wouldn't _be there_ – you, or Gavin... I'm not leaving him out there. I'm not leaving _you_ out there.”

“Jack,” Geoff began, and there was a plea in it – Jack stepped closer and folded his hands over Geoff's. Stared at him fiercely – Geoff was horrified to realise there were tears in the other man's eyes.

“It's Gavin, Geoff,” Jack said, his voice breaking a little. “It's _Gavin_. I can't stay here. Don't fucking tell me I'm not combat trained – we had the same training growing up, even if I haven't had cause to practice since. I know how to hold a damn sword.”

There was no use arguing with him when he got like this, Geoff knew. And even if it was selfish of him, a little part of himself was almost relieved that he'd have Jack by his side, in this as in everything.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Jack tugged him closer and dropped their foreheads down against each other. Geoff closed his eyes. His heart was pounding, and he was more worried than he'd been in a long fucking time.

But Jack was here with him, and even if it was only a small comfort, it was just the reassurance he needed not to completely fall apart. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring up into Jack's.

_Gods, I love you,_ was all he could think. He wanted to say it – but it felt incomplete, somehow, without Gavin here. _I love both of you. I'll say it when we're all here. It's past due._

“We'll get him back,” he whispered instead, fiercely. Jack met his eyes, and this time he was the one who seemed vulnerable – the one who needed Geoff's reassurance, to tell him everything would be okay. Geoff reached out and put his arms around him. Felt Jack's face press into his shoulder and hugged him tightly, even if the crown dug into his stomach uncomfortably between them. He wasn't sure if it was Jack or himself he was reassuring as he squeezed the other man tightly and repeated it again.

“We'll get him back.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Gavin Free was running.

The potion of swiftness he'd taken meant that at a full sprint he was going three times as fast as he usually would – and wasn't tiring, either, not any more than if he had just been taking a pleasant stroll. It was an odd sensation – he felt light, as though his feet were barely touching the ground with each step and if he wasn't careful he might float off entirely. It was the closest to flying he thought he ever might get. The potion of strength, too, meant the sword in his hand that he'd struggled to so much as lift up earlier seemed to weigh no more than a feather.

By now the city was long behind him. He could see it, if he looked over his shoulder – a faint red glow in the distance, standing out against the dark landscape. It was scary, being out here alone, no one else in sight. Just cold stone for miles in every direction. But there was also an odd exhilaration in it – in freely running through this barren wilderness with no civilisation in sight.

And the storm – the storm, raging above him, was a thing of beauty. Every crash of thunder seemed to make the ground tremble under him, a reverberating thrum that pulsed through him and resonated deep into his bones. He was soaked through, even with his scarf pulled up over his head like a hood, but he was past the point of caring. The constant baptism of rain washing over him was cathartic, almost.

_Omen_ , he'd told Ray. It was an omen alright, and not just because the dark and cover of rain had let him slip out of the city unnoticed.

Gavin had always had a flare for the theatrical – so sue him, he was a performer by trade – and the convenient arrival of the storm had delighted him. The stage was set – lighting, sound, shadow – the pieces were all in place. He'd even given his monologue, even if he was sure Ray hadn't understood it at the time.

When Ryan had started telling him last night about supercharged creepers, he'd listened, rapt, caught up in this world of danger and monsters and death around every corner. That hadn't been part of the act; he was genuinely interested in the king's science, and the mobs most of all – especially given his own connection to the Wild.

The ridiculously low probability of lightning managing to strike right on a creeper appealed to him for just what a twist of _luck –_ bad luck, for humans at least – it would have to be. But it was not a real charged creeper that the others had to fear tonight. Here _he_ was, wrapped in his creeper skins, running through the storm, fast and furious as lightning himself-

Ready to blast everything apart.

He was barely even scared, even as he raced further into the dark and the unknown. He had Michael’s sword, after all, and the effects of the potions were still holding strong. Maybe he was not trained in swordplay – maybe some would say that strength and speed were useless if you didn't know what you were doing with them. But what everyone forgot – what they'd always failed to see – was that despite his clumsiness when he wasn't paying attention, you couldn't be an acrobat, a juggler, a gymnast, without immense coordination and reflexes.

For the first time in a long time he felt like he was doing something significant. Despite how often he performed, he was still _invisible_ to people – they watched him dance, or juggle, or do a handstand, but they watched vacantly, not really _seeing_ him – it was what was expected of him, after all. Just a silly amusement people moved on with once they'd had their laughs.

But even if he was alone here, no one to see what he was doing – it felt like he was, at last, in the starring role.

He slowed down as the Wild loomed ahead of him. There was an abrupt break where the stone biome ended – a distinct line across the ground where rock turned to rich, dark soil. From here he could smell it, the pungent aroma of wet dirt and jungle plants.

He was not afraid of it.

Not the way he'd seen Michael be afraid of it. Not how Ryan was wary of this playground of monsters right on his doorstep. Not the way Geoff and Jack and Ray saw it as something to be conquered, tamed, shaped into something they could use.

The Wild, to Gavin, felt like some living, breathing entity that he approached with caution, as though afraid to wake some sleeping giant. A dark ecosystem that could swallow him up, fit him into his works. There seemed some magnetic pull, drawing him in – it was strange, because he had spoken to the servants and soldiers around Ryan's castle, and they'd all felt repelled by it. An odd dread that made them want to turn and flee in the other direction. They hated to even look at it.

Not Gavin. He stopped right on the border, his toes edging the last few centimetres of stone. A funny tingling sensation took over his whole body. He thought it might be how magic felt – what he imagined it was like when the kings used their gifts. He closed his eyes and breathed it in – even the storm seemed to have fallen silent around him, and a second later he realised that the canopy formed by the branches and leaves of the enormous trees was blocking out the rain like a roof, only a faint soft drumming audible.

Would they miss him by now?

Probably not, he thought, and smiled humourlessly. He doubted they'd even realised he was gone yet.

By the time they did, it would be too late. They'd search for him around the fortress, first. They would never think he'd come _here_. Wouldn't think he'd dare. Wouldn't think he'd _make it_. Geoff would probably assume he'd slipped and fallen into some crater back in the Stoneworld – Michael would think he'd gotten tired and given up miles back. Ray probably didn't think he'd have the guts – or brains – to leave the castle at all.

None of them thought he could do anything, after all.

He made to step forward, but hesitated at the last second.

_Once you go in, you can't go back. If you're going to do this, commit to it now_.

He closed his eyes and finally stopped to _think_ – the adrenaline racing through him since he'd watched Ray walk to the range before finally running down to Ryan's lab and putting his plan into action had kept him going this whole time. He hadn't really paused to catch his breath – to let the full impact of what he was doing sink in.

_They will hate you for this._

It was something that hadn't quite struck him until this moment. Not just Ryan who he'd deceived – not Michael and Ray, whose victory he might be robbing – but Geoff, too. _Jack_.

_You are taking something from them_. _Something you have no right to – something not meant for a fool_.

No, he wasn't. It made him angry to think about – the same way their casual dismissals of him had been making him angry – and angrier, and _angrier_.

_It is not theirs._

_It belongs to no one._

_It is mine as much as anyone's – if I can win it. They don't think you can. But that is their downfall._

But it was not just the crown he was taking - what about himself? He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart aching – _that_ was what was holding him back. That he was leaving behind the two men who he... _who he-_

_Geoff and Jack will think they are losing you_. A moment of piercing sadness – then the anger, flooding back in – _they don't own me_ – they never had – _besides, why would they care?_

It was a petulant thought, and one that he knew, deep inside, was untrue. Geoff and Jack cared about him, of course they did – they'd known him for years, they'd taken him in. Protected him. Grown jealous over him. But they didn't _love him_ , not the way he needed them to. It had been years and no one had said it out loud – years and he'd watched the two of them so comfortably grow closer. Maybe they didn't need the words, but he did. After parents who'd abandoned him – years spent alone – _he needed it_ , and it was instinctive to feel that if it hadn't happened by now, it wasn't going to. _Run before you can get hurt more._

And it did hurt – it hurt a lot. It hurt so much he couldn't stand it. That was why he was here – partly.

If you love something, he considered, give everything to it. And oh, he had given and given.

But when it didn't love you back?

_Let it go_. That was what everyone said, wasn't it? _Focus on other things._

And what did he have without the two of them? Nothing but the scarf – his _family_ – a purpose to find out more, to finally fill in the missing pieces of his past that had been an absence he felt for too long.

And those answers were here, in the Wild, waiting for him. He couldn't keep giving up the chance to find them for – what? For Geoff? _For nothing_. Maybe Michael was being honest when he said he'd help if he won. Maybe even the Mad King's silver promises were true too. But he'd still be relying on the graciousness of kings, and what Ryan had said had struck a chord. _Aren't you sick of not being in control?_

Gods, he was.

He felt bad about Ryan. He knew he shouldn't – that it was incredibly likely that all along the other man had been manipulating him as well, that no matter what he claimed a lot of his interest in Gavin stemmed from being able to take him from Geoff – but still. Using him to get the potions hadn't initially been part of the plan. When he'd first gone down to the lab he had genuinely just wanted to know more about the scarf.

But then as things escalated – as he reached a breaking point, of sorts...

It had been clear that for whatever reason, Ryan was susceptible to Gavin. Sympathised with him – _liked_ him, even, when he was just being himself and not even trying to put on the charm. But for all Ryan's pretty words and praises, even _he_ had never seen Gavin as a threat – he called him clever but never realised just _how much_ – told him to his face he was a bad liar while never realising that Gavin was far more ambitious than anyone gave him credit for – it was almost insulting, how clear it was that yes, Ryan liked him, valued him even-

But even he saw Gavin as, what? A pretty, _simple_ little thing – a commoner caught up in the world of kings. Out of his depth and only able to stay afloat with the help of others.

_Not any more_.

Little plots that he had built up – not even sure if he would ever act on them – getting close to Michael since his friendship might come in useful later on. That had been for Geoff, at first, but when he rejected Gavin's help, why not use it for himself? He'd given Ryan the favour partly out of anger but mostly knowing it would make the king trust him – but Geoff's reaction to that had only hurt him more; the other man's possessiveness while still refusing to _give_ Gavin anything he needed. Acknowledgement. _Love_.

But he hadn't been _sure_ , sure that he would go through with this, would do anything with the traps and plans and pieces he'd laid out. There was no harm in setting things up if you didn't end up actually using them.

But then he had.

Even he couldn't tell what the turning point had been – maybe it had begun even before Geoff pulled rank and forced him to come here. Maybe it was when the two men he loved most in all the world had dismissed him over the chess. Maybe it was the moment he kissed Ryan, terrified, only for the other man to kiss back and him to realise that _it worked, I was right, he does trust me_ – when he used that advantage to steal the key – or maybe it was when he ran, and for the first time took his destiny into his own hands.

It didn't matter. He was here now, and he adjusted his grip on Michael's sword, clutched the redstone torch until it shone bright, took a deep breath, and stepped into the Wild.

 

* * *

 

Ryan led the way as they rode to the Wild in silence.

It would have been too difficult to talk, anyway. Between the rain and thunder, the lashing wind, and the speed they were travelling at, everyone was mostly focused on not falling off. The slippery stone ground with its dips and crevices was perilous terrain, and they were all using Ryan's horses as they were used to this ground.

He led the party because he knew the safest route to the edge of the Wild. He'd made the trip numerous times before to collect soil and plant samples, but in the dark it seemed particularly frightening, riding towards that black mass of trees, occasionally lit up by flashes of white lightning. They all held redstone torches, but beyond those rings of illumination, the world around them was pitch black.

Ryan was glad for the silence. It gave him space to think.

_Gavin. What the hell are you doing?_

There'd been a tightness in his chest since he realised the potions were missing – since he realised, with dread, that... oh gods, it hurt to think it.

Gavin could only have pick-pocketed the laboratory key when he kissed Ryan last night.

A distraction – one that Ryan ought never to have fallen for.

He felt strangely numb. _Just one more betrayal_. And maybe he should have been furious – kicking himself – full of _hate_ for the fool-

But some awful, treacherous part of himself still _hoped_ that Geoff was wrong. That Gavin wasn't doing this for him.

That he was doing it for Ryan.

Because Gavin's anger and upset with Ramsey – that hadn't been faked. Ryan could read people well and he _knew_ that wasn't a lie.

And last night – the hours he'd spent excitedly telling Gavin about the golems – how they'd worked on the scarf together, both filled with a giddy glee – the little smiles and touches-

He'd been certain Gavin wanted to stay. That there had been a connection between them, something special. He _wanted_ to believe it.

And perhaps Gavin, afraid that Michael and Ray would win the crown, had thought to go behind Ryan's back and try to get it himself. For _them_. So that the world Ryan had drawn out for them the night before could become a reality.

That had to be it, he thought, it _had to_ – because the alternative...

The alternative was that he'd been played for a fool, that he'd let the enemy right into his home and his heart with sickening enthusiasm. That he'd been stupid, _stupid_ , and betrayed again.

He was worried – scared, even – that that might be the case. But, as always, he pushed it away and focused on the task at hand.

The Wild loomed up ahead of them. Even having grown up next to it, Ryan had never quite gotten used to the shiver it sent down his spine. He slowed down as they approached, dismounting and passing the reins to one of the servants they'd brought along to mind the horses. It was impossible to ride in the tangled jungle that seemed to lack any semblance of manmade paths or roads.

“Fucking hate this place,” one of his soldiers muttered as she dismounted beside him. Ryan glanced over and their eyes met for a moment before she looked away. He knew they were all nervous – he was too, though he gave no sign of it. The Wild was deadly, even more so at night. He'd picked two women to come who he knew had both been in here before, and who he trusted more than most of his other soldiers.

Many generals of the Stoneworld army had been carefully selected by his mother for sharing her bloodthirsty principles and complete lack of a conscience. It would have been impossible for Ryan to lay off his entire military staff – not without inviting a revolt – so it left him in the uncomfortable position of not actually trusting a fair amount of his soldiers not to turn against him.

The golems would help with that.

He'd also appointed a new captain of the guard this year – Mica, a fierce soldier but also young enough not to have been influenced by his mother – in the hope that she'd bring in other new recruits and raise them loyal to his principles instead. He didn't trust her – because he didn't trust _anyone_ – but he felt more comfortable with her in command, and he'd left the city in her hands tonight in case the storm drove any mobs out of the Wild and towards the capital and its farms and mines.

The others arrived, wary and hesitant. He watched as Geoff held out his arm, steadying Jack as he got down from his horse in case he slipped on the wet ground. Even he could see how uneasy both men were – they weren't bothering to hide it, the wide-eyed glances they shot towards the trees. Ryan was unsettled too, this close to the Wild.

Jack held up his redstone torch and peered into the tangled darkness.

“Wow,” he said.

“That's one way of putting it,” Ryan replied drily. “A big, scary forest right on my doorstep. And we wonder why children have nightmares about monsters.”

“It's enough to give _me_ nightmares,” Jack said distractedly. His hand went to the hilt of his sword and Ryan raised an eyebrow.

He'd been surprised that Geoff's advisor had come along. He didn't seem like he'd been in combat in years. But he hadn't questioned it, even if it gave Geoff an additional member in his party. _Of course he wants to find Gavin. Of course they both do._

He turned to Geoff expectantly.

“You know the route,” he said.

“Yes,” Geoff replied, meeting his eyes coolly, their previous differences forgotten for now at this shared goal. “I have it memorised. If Gavin's following my map, he'll also be taking the fastest way there. I've travelled there with the Sight – it's a straightforward enough trek, but mobs are what we need to watch out for.”

“You lead on, then,” Ryan said.

Geoff stared at him for a moment, and Ryan stared calmly back. After a moment Geoff nodded, and drew his sword. He hesitated before stepping over the border into the Wild biome.

“Fuck me,” Michael muttered, before drawing his own sword – one that one of his men had loaned him; still larger and heavier than a regular one but nothing compared to his diamond weapon – and trudging after Geoff.

Ryan watched him go. Of all of them, Michael was showing the least fear. It was actually rather reassuring having him – and his two other fur-clad warriors – come along. He knew that if it came to a fight, the soldiers of the Alps were people he'd want on his side. And they were all on the same side here, at least against mobs.

He noticed that Gavin's soldier friend who he'd been sitting with in the games had also been brought along by Geoff. He wasn't bothering to hide his worry, his face twisted and angry as he hurried in. Ryan stuck with his own two women, taking up the rear of the party as they entered.

“How far ahead do you think he is?” Michael asked, glancing over his shoulder at Ryan as they crept into the trees. “Could we catch up to him on the road?”

“I have no idea,” Ryan replied. “And we won't know unless Geoff uses the Sight to look ahead, but we don't have time for that. Now everyone,” he added, as the entire party inched their way into the humid warmth of the forest – it was awful, stagnant and damp, like they were making their way into the stinking gullet of some beast - “Move as quietly as you can. A big party like this will draw attention. If any mobs attack us, we should be able to handle them. They usually move individually within the forest. Zombie hordes only conglomerate outside the Wild, not in it. But creepers are what we need to watch out for.”

His two soldiers let out annoyed hisses at the mention of those mobs.

“Fucking creepers,” one of them said, and all eyes turned to her. “They're totally silent, so keep your eyes open. The dark isn't helping, but there should be enough of us to keep a lookout. If one of them gets too close, we're all dead.”

“Gods,” Jack murmured. Ryan looked over in time to see him reach out and squeeze Geoff's hand. He glanced away, disliking how some part of his own stomach twisted at not having anyone there to reassure _him_.

_You don't need it. You are not scared_.

They headed into the Wild.

Ryan had only been in here during daylight before. It was a much different experience in the dark. The trees were packed close together with little room to move, and though Geoff was leading them along a vague sort of trail, the ground was still awfully uneven, with tree roots and fallen branches blocking their path every few metres. Vines swung about like tendrils reaching to catch at their hair and clothes, and the canopy of enormous leaves completely blocked out the sky. While it kept them dry from the rain, it also served to make everything feel closed in like a trap.

There was something eerie about how silent it was, only the muffled drumming of the rain above them to be heard. It made every shuffle of footsteps, every snap of a twig, seem deafening.

But more than that – there was some lingering, heavy presence about them that Ryan had always hated about the Wild. It felt like they were being watched – like there was something in the air that they were breathing that was poisoning them from the inside.

For a while they were just walking through trees, occasionally breaking out into clearings. Geoff seemed to know what he was doing, and Ryan trusted that he was leading the way correctly.

After some time, there was a little more room as the thick, tangled jungle opened up into a steep downhill slope. Ryan could hear faint water rushing – they were probably getting close to the banks of a river.

He ended up falling back next to Ray as everyone slowed down, not wanting to fall as they picked their way down the hill. Ray's boots slipped in the mud as they neared the bottom and Ryan reached out, catching his arm and steadying him. Ray grabbed at Ryan to support himself before looking up and giving him a small smile.

“It's awful in here,” he whispered. “So different to the desert. I always thought I'd like to see so many plants around. But there's something... _wrong_ with these. I don't know how to explain it. They feel alive. Not in a good way.”

“The Wild's an odd place,” Ryan agreed. “ _Untamed_. That's what makes it dangerous. Someone needs to control it.”

Ray nodded. He pulled his arm away from Ryan's, but stuck by his side as they continued on.

“I can't believe fucking Gavin's after the crown,” Ray said after a moment. “All of us obliviously playing the games back there, and the fool was headed here – how do we know he even made it? He could've fallen down a hole back in the Stoneworld and broken his neck.”

The thought sent a chill down Ryan's spine. _Not Gavin._ The thought of his death had a miserable shock running through him in a way no one else's had in a long time.

“No,” he replied, perhaps a little too snappishly. “He is agile. He made it.”

Ray raised his eyebrows. Ryan knew it must be obvious he and Gavin had spent time together lately – but he felt suddenly flustered, not wanting anyone to know just _how_ close they'd gotten, and changed the topic quickly.

“Why didn't you throw the games?” he demanded, and it was Ray's turn to stiffen. “You could have won with Michael by now. That was the plan, wasn't it? This crown might be yours – but now, I have a chance to take it. That's not good for you two.”

“You'd use it against us?” Ray challenged, but it was a weak attempt to direct the conversation back towards Ryan.

"I didn't say that,” Ryan replied, not letting up.

Ray looked away, dragging his feet through the mud.

“I don't know why I did it,” he admitted after a moment, arms wrapped around himself. “Don't you ever just – do things sometimes? Stupid things. Angry things. Or I guess you're just in control all the time,” he added, glancing up at Ryan.

Ryan hesitated. _Of course_ , he wanted to say. Keep his image of aloof coldness. But he couldn't lie to Ray, suddenly. Didn't _want_ to.

“Passion can overtake reason,” he said instead, and closed his eyes briefly, thinking of his own lack of control when it came to Gavin. Still terrified that that was about to come back to burn him.

Ray nodded furiously.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Sometimes you just... can't follow other people's lead anymore. You can't always be the one _giving_. It just... it gets too heavy. You can't carry it any more.”

Ryan considered this. Part of him sympathised – he knew what it was like to be weighed down by something, even if for vastly different reasons. Unrequited love meant much less in the grand scheme of things than having spent years watching his mother rule. And he could have run away – he had considered it, often – he could have fled to the plains and never had to be a part of it.

But he hadn't. Couldn't just _leave_ like that. There was duty in it, he supposed. And it was the same situation with Ray – he had to marry Michael, to unite their kingdoms, as much as it hurt.

“We have to think of our kingdoms first,” he replied, and Ray bit his lip.

“I know,” he said softly. “In the moment I wasn't thinking about that. But I guess I shouldn't have done it. Maybe it wasn't worth it just to shoot that one arrow.”

There was a lengthy silence. The sound of the river was growing louder next to them – the ground beneath their feet damp and soft so that their boots sank in with every step, making it hard to walk.

Finally Ray gave a great sigh.

“You should be thanking me,” he pointed out, glancing up at Ryan. There was a self-deprecating twist to his smile. “Now you might still win the crown.”

“You didn't do it for me,” Ryan pointed out. “I think maybe you didn't even do it for yourself.”

Ray glanced away again. Though he was struggling to keep a blank face, his shoulders were hunched and he looked suddenly very small and young. Ryan was startled by how much he disliked seeing the other man unsure of himself and vulnerable.

Before he had time to dwell on it, there came a telltale hiss from nearby.

“ _Creeper_!” he heard one of the women yell, and a deafening explosion rang out.

Ryan barely had time to think. Before he even knew what he was doing he was grabbing Ray and yanking him aside, body curling around the smaller man to protect him. He felt a singing blast of hot wind sweep over his back before a second later they slipped on the wet ground and he was falling, landing on top of Ray in the mud. A moment later another explosion rang out, making his ears pop – he didn't feel that one, hunched down on the ground with Ray pressed under him – but a second later a wave of freezing _water_ swept over them, a sudden cold shock that confused Ryan so much that for a second he couldn't move.

“Another one!” he heard someone yell – he thought it might be Geoff, but it was hard to tell over the ringing in his ears – he braced himself for another explosion, but it never came.

“Good shot,” Michael's voice, deafening as always, hollered out next. And then, more panicked, “Ray?”

“We're fine,” Ryan called out. He picked himself up and shook himself, realising with displeasure that he was soaked through. He'd dropped his redstone in the blast and it was so dark that he couldn't see a thing until he turned and caught sight of Michael's face, lit up crimson, standing right behind him.

“Ray?” Michael said again, and Ryan pointed to the ground where Ray was picking himself up with a groan. Like Ryan, he took stock of himself and found himself uninjured. He met Ryan's gaze, eyes wide and shocked, and opened his mouth to say something.

“Michael!” Geoff screamed suddenly, before Ray could get the words out.

Ryan barely realised what was happening until a horrifying, creaking groan rang out and Michael grabbed Ray and yanked him out of the way as a tree they'd been lying right under crashed to the ground where they'd been just moments before. Ryan jumped backwards, heart pounding – he snatched the redstone torch from Michael and looked around.

There was an enormous crater in the ground where one creeper had exploded – it had unearthed the roots of the tree, sending it toppling over. He realised suddenly that the ground was flooded, leaving them all ankle deep in water, and upon further investigation discovered that another crater had burst the bank of the river, already overflowing from the storm, and sent a surge of water towards them.

Their party was also a lot smaller than he remembered, and his stomach dropped as he realised his two soldiers were nowhere in sight.

“How many injured?” he called out, and turned to see Geoff looking frantically around as well.

“Dan? Matt? Good, you're both here,” he said – Ryan spun around, the redstone light falling on Michael, who was still clutching Ray to his chest. The two of them were breathing heavily, clinging to each other – but as the light fell on them they seemed to realise exactly where they were, and pulled apart awkwardly. Ray grabbed his own torch from the ground, the faint red glow visible under the rippling water, and looked around before letting out a great cry.

“Over here!”

Ryan hurried over to the other crater and his stomach sank. The bodies of his two soldiers lay twisted at the bottom – Ray's as well – though there was little shrapnel from a creeper's actual body, the material of its flesh entirely burning up in the initial explosion (and he'd discovered just how flammable their hides were from Gavin's scarf), the blast tended to send rocks and anything else from the ground in every direction. That and the shockwave itself meant that anything in the blast zone was pretty much obliterated.

One of Michael's men was lying sprawled in there too. In the dark they couldn't see their injuries well, but Ray was already skidding down into the deep crater and bending down to check on them. Geoff was quick to follow him, but a moment later he looked up, met Ryan's eyes, and shook his head.

"Shit,” Michael breathed out next to him.

Ryan stared numbly down at the two women. Death happened in his kingdom – he was used to it – but he never liked to lose people, especially the few who he believed were loyal to him. Mica would be unhappy, he thought absently.

“Are you okay?” someone whispered next to him, and he turned to see Jack. Waterlogged and soaked as Ryan was, the other man standing so close to him suddenly felt very warm, and the concern in his eyes was genuine.

Ryan had never been good with sympathy. It made him embarrassed, and he stepped away.

“I'm fine,” he said, voice tight.

Jack didn't seem to mind his curtness. He just nodded, his eyes still very soft. Down in the crater, Geoff was pulling Ray to his feet. Ryan saw him wrap an arm around the younger man and lean in, murmuring something in his ear – Ray nodded in response, but he was very quiet, and Ryan thought of how few dangers there were in the desert aside from natural disasters. It was likely one of the first times Ray'd seen his people killed in front of him.

Michael was watching the two of them, something twisted and upset in his own face. His surviving man came up by his side and Michael turned to him.

“Are you okay, Jeremy?” he asked.

The other soldier nodded, peering around Michael into the pit. Ryan heard him let out a sad little noise, and Michael reached out and pressed his arm. The two of them leaned into each other for a moment as Ryan stood, alone, watching them.

“I will send people to collect the bodies once the storm has passed,” he spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him – Matt and Dan in the middle of pulling Geoff and Ray out of the hole. “For now we need to move on.”

“Thank you,” Ray spoke up. His voice was choked and tight and Michael looked over at him, seeming pained, but didn't reach out.

Ryan just nodded.

“You see the dangers of mobs,” he said coldly. “They are out of control here, have overrun the Wild. We need a proper king for this land – someone who knows how to rule.”

No one argued with that. Ryan stared down into the dark crater a moment longer before taking up a stone from the ground and calling on his gift. It shone bright red as he made himself a new torch, handing Michael's back to him.

“Those creepers snuck up on us,” Ryan continued. “Everyone needs to be on the lookout. That can't happen again.”

Five dead was a horrifying number so early into their expedition – but not uncommon for the Wild. It was why it was so feared, and he could see it sinking in on all the others' faces, these men who were unused to the danger that was right on the Stoneworld's doorstep.

Ryan held out a hand, indicating for Geoff to take over, and the other man shook himself before taking the lead once more, continuing along the path of the river. They moved on in silence.

 

* * *

 

Gavin came to a stumbling halt, panting hard and catching his breath. He could feel the effects of the potion of swiftness beginning to wear off – he'd chugged two of the strength ones, so that should at least last longer. Putting the sword down and leaning against the nearest tree, he pulled out the map to have another look at it.

He was deep into the Wild by now and any nerves he'd felt had been washed away by a funny, buzzing exhilaration. Even if he was a little winded from running for so long, he wasn't _tired_ , not really. There was something in the air here that seemed to fill him with energy of a sort he'd never felt before. It had him invigorated. It felt like he'd never been awake in his whole life until now.

He held up the torch, checking the map. He was by the banks of a river now, just as the route indicated – soon he'd turn away from it, through another thick patch of jungle, and then down into the ravine where the cave was.

_And there will be the crown_. He was over halfway to it by now and he folded the map up and put it away again, his heart pounding as he picked up the sword and pushed off the tree, turning to continue on-

When suddenly he heard the _thwish_ of an bowstring being released, and a sharp pain bloomed through his shoulder. He cried out, staggering only to get pulled up short.

An arrow had grazed across his arm and pierced through his scarf, embedding itself in the tree behind him. He clapped a hand over the wound and his fingers came away sticky with blood – he ducked as a second later another arrow whistled through the air and stuck in the tree just above his head. He whipped around and his heart skipped a beat as he noticed the skeletal creature lurking in the trees on the other side of the river.

_Draugr_.

He'd heard awful stories about them, but it didn't quite compare to seeing one in person – a literal _walking skeleton_ , its awful empty eye sockets staring blankly at him, teeth bared in a horrid grin. He saw it raise the bow again and quickly grabbed his scarf and tugged, ripping it free from the arrow it was caught in before rolling sideways as the draugr fired another arrow off.

The river wasn't that wide, but he wasn't sure how deep or strong the currents might be under its surface. There were rocks in the middle and before he even thought about it he ran forward and leaped, landing on the rock and immediately launching himself off it towards the opposite bank. The stones were slippery and wet, but the potion of strength leant him momentum and he landed hard on the other side of the river, dropping into a neat roll.

The draugr seemed startled by his sudden movement, and before it could make another move on him he got to his feet and charged it, swinging the enormous sword.

The enchanted diamond sliced the creature in half as easily as if it had been cutting butter. It collapsed into a pile of loose bones and Gavin stood, breathing heavily, startled by just how _easy_ it had been.

“Some bloody sword, Michael,” he murmured, staring at the thing in awe. “You really could kill anything with this.”

Well, that was what he was counting on.

He bent and examined the bones, curious – he didn't know much about where they came from, how they could look so much like human skeletons – he might've been able to ask Ryan, he thought wryly, if only he wasn't about to make the other man hate him. For a moment he felt faintly sad about that, but a moment later he heard a low moan from deeper in the forest and a chill ran down his spine as he scrambled upright again, lifting the redstone torch higher. He caught a flicker of movement in the trees, and lifted the sword again.

Something was shuffling towards him. It looked oddly human, and for a moment a shock ran through him as he wondered if it was some bandit, some resident of the Wild-

“Who's out there?” he called.

Only a strangled sort of groan met him, and the figure revealed itself as it shambled into the light. It was a zombie, he realised immediately – it was shuffling along with a stilted limp, hands raised before it. It smelt awful, like rotting fruit, its greenish flesh and misshapen features grotesque to look at – but also oddly intriguing for someone who'd never seen a mob before.

He still wasn't _scared,_ not quite. He ought to be, he knew – especially when a second zombie lumbered out of the trees right on the heels of the first.

“Come on then,” he muttered, and shifted his grip on the sword to two hands. He advanced slowly – the zombie continued to meander towards him, hands grabbing – with a shout he lunged forward and hacked at it with the sword.

Again, the diamond cut through the mob easily, and a chunk of its side fell off – it didn't bleed, was nothing but raw, festering flesh – but it didn't slow, even though it was down one arm. Bony fingers grasped at his scarf and caught in the fabric even as he plunged the sword through its stomach. It still didn't drop.

“Bugger me,” he hissed, only to shout in pain when the second zombie swung a clumsy punch at him and caught him in his wounded arm. He stumbled sideways, the sword cutting its way out of the zombie's abdomen, only for a second blow to catch him across the face, ragged long nails tearing through his skin.

_Pain._ He didn't shout again, just clenched his teeth together and swung the sword fiercely at the advancing zombies. It cut through the injured one's head, the top of its skull falling clean off. _Now_ it crumpled, and it dawned on Gavin suddenly – _aim for the head_ – he was sure Ryan had figured that out long ago, but it hadn't occurred to him until now.

He ducked a swipe from the surviving one and stabbed at it, spearing it clean through the face. It fell with a final sorry moan, and he lowered the sword, breathing heavily.

“Shit,” he hissed, and reached up, flinching as he touched the scratches on his face. They were deep, and hurt a lot – he could feel blood running down his face and hurried over to the river, cupping water in his hands and washing away the worst of it, fearful of infection. His arm was burning, too, and he gingerly inspected the wound. There was a nasty slice across his bicep, but he grit his teeth and ripped a strip from the bottom of his shirt, binding it tightly. It was clumsy work tying a bandage with one hand and his teeth, but he managed. He'd managed for a long time, living alone on the streets.

He inspected the damage to his scarf with a frown – the arrow had caught it close to the end, so he was relieved to see not too much was torn off. He crossed back to the other side of the river only to freeze when he heard more shuffling noises in the undergrowth.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. He didn't want to waste any more time fighting mobs, and instead adjusted the redstone light until it dimmed to a dull glow and slipped away between the trees, heading quickly away from the riverside. He hoped to avoid whatever was out there – except, a moment later, a shadow in the corner of his eye made him jump nearly out of his skin. He stifled a yell and recognised the lumbering form of another zombie. Quickly, he ducked away, squeezing between two trees he could see nearby-

Only to spin around and _freeze_ as he came face-to-face with a creeper.

His heart nearly stopped. It was inches from him and all he could see were the soulless orbs of its eyes, the deepest black he'd ever seen. It was a monster like no other – at least the zombies and draugr had vaguely resembled humans. But this creeper was a formless beast, as tall as he was, and blending into the forest around him with its pelt. Only its awful eyes and its gaping, empty dark mouth were visible.

In that moment, Gavin was quite certain that he was going to die.

He had heard Ryan tell of how dangerous these creatures were – had heard the stories himself. _No one has ever gotten close to one and survived_. It would blow up – in an instant, he would be dead – all he could do was stand there, unable to breathe, his heart racing so fast he couldn't feel the individual beats-

And stare into the creature's eyes.

It was staring back at him, he could tell. There was no way it did not see him. Behind him, through the trees, he heard the zombie's stumbling footsteps. He clutched at the sword in his hand, his grip slippery with sweat.

The creeper continued to stare. Gavin didn't dare move.

After a moment, he blinked slowly – he had to, his eyes were burning – and he saw the creature blink, too, green eyelids shuttering down for a moment over those black voids. Then, to his amazement, it slowly shuffled backwards.

He still didn't move, terrified – it seemed to look him up and down for a moment before turning and scuttling soundlessly off on its stubby legs.

_Oh my gods._ He slumped back against the tree, his knees trembling and weak, shaking all over. _I'm alive – I'm bloody alive – what the fuck just happened?_

For a moment he sat, taking stock of himself, waiting to calm down a little. His mind was racing – he couldn't figure out what had happened. After a moment he reached up and touched his scarf gently – had the creature seen it and mistaken him for another creeper? It was the only explanation he could think of.

Either way, he wasn't about to stick around here and wait for it to come back.

He clambered back to his feet and took a few deep breaths. Looked around again – no sign of the creeper – and, unsettled now, hurried on towards the ravine as quickly and quietly as possible.

 

* * *

 

“There's something up ahead,” Geoff hissed, coming to an abrupt stop.

The entire party froze. They'd reached the banks of the river by now, and hadn't encountered any mobs since the creepers. But now they all dimmed their torches and peered worriedly out into the clearing that edged the river.

“Zombies,” Ryan muttered.

There were about six of them, milling around – it was unusual for them to congregate together while in the Wild. He supposed maybe the storm had gotten them on the move. They weren't the most dangerous of mobs, and he drew his sword.

“Aim for the head,” he informed them. “Stay out of reach of their teeth. They tend to hit, mostly, unless they're able to grab you. We outnumber them so this shouldn't be too hard. Ready?”

They all nodded, Matt and Ray both taking out their bows. Ryan glanced at Michael and Geoff, who nodded back at him, before leading the charge into the clearing.

The zombies looked up as they entered and started lumbering towards them. Ryan ducked a swipe from the nearest before spinning around to stab it through the back of the head, yanking his sword out with a savage ease as it crumpled to the ground.

Beside him he could hear Michael grunting as he swung his sword in furious arcs, managing to lop the tops of three zombies' heads clear off. It was a mixture of horrifying and mesmerising to watch – on Ryan's other side, Dan stabbed a zombie through the throat before ripping his sword up right through its head. The last had been taken down in a flurry of arrows, and they fell into silence, breathing heavily.

“Michael,” Jeremy called out suddenly, and Michael turned to him. His soldier was standing by a nearby tree and Michael hurried to his side before letting out a cry that had them all rushing to see.

“What is it?” Geoff demanded, and then sucked in a breath. “Gods, no...”

There were two arrows stuck into the bark of the tree – and hanging from one of them, a familiar scrap of green fabric. Ryan's heart nearly stopped as he shouldered Michael aside to look as well.

“Is that blood?” Jeremy asked tentatively.

“Fuck,” Dan hissed, and reached out, running a hand over the fabric – and then down the tree trunk, where more blood was spattered, and over the sandy ground too. There was no mistaking it, and after a moment Dan let out an agonised cry and kicked the tree hard. “ _Fuck_!”

“Stay calm,” Jack began, but his voice was very tight. He reached out to Dan but was shaken off, the other man pacing a few steps away and clutching at his hair. Ryan watched him, something aching in him at the other man's distress – at how his own stomach had clenched at the sight of the blood.

“Um, everyone?” Ray spoke up suddenly. They turned to see him pointing across the river. “Is it just me or are there bodies over there?”

There were, indeed, two crumpled forms just barely visible in the shadows on the other side of the riverbed. Again, a cold shock ran through Ryan – he stepped closer, but the light from the redstone couldn't reach far enough to see what they were. _Gavin... it can't be. It_ can't _be._

Geoff let out a horrified choking noise – but Michael whipped around suddenly, sword raised.

“Draugr!” he cried, and they all snapped to attention.

Sure enough, three draugr were emerging from the forest behind them, likely drawn by the sound of them fighting the zombies. A moment later an arrow shot through the air and Matt barely pushed Jeremy out of the way in time – they looked over to see two more skeleton archers on the other side of the river.

“Matt, Ray, take those out!” Geoff yelled. He drew his sword – the draugr on this side of the river were armed too – Ryan also started forward, only for Dan to charge past both of them with a ferocious roar.

“Holy shit,” Ryan heard Jeremy say – Dan parried one of the skeleton's clumsy blows before violently thrusting his sword into its ribcage and swinging it in an arc, cutting the draugr clean in half and slicing off the arm of the one behind it. He hacked at the same one, cleaving it to pieces – the third one swung at him, but Geoff darted forward and blocked the blow before it could make contact. Dan stumbled out of the way, then turned and sliced the draugr's head off. It clattered to the ground in a pile of bones and he stood, breathing heavily, shoulders tense and shaking.

Beside Ryan, Michael had shoved Ray behind him as more arrows fired from the opposite bank.

“I can take care of myself,” Ray snapped.

“Your soldiers aren't here,” Michael shot back. “Stay _close_.”

“Get out of my fucking way,” Ray replied, and shouldered Michael aside, raising his bow. Matt was already taking down one of the draugr – arrows were less effective at killing them – Ray fired his own, making the draugr stumble as it tried to get closer to them. His final shot sent it tumbling into the river and it was quickly swept downstream by the deceptively strong currents.

Dan was already moving forward, leaping nimbly across the river and hurrying over to check the bodies. They watched with baited breath – Jack was clutching at Geoff's arm, Ryan noticed absently – they watched him hunch over the bodies, examining them with the redstone light, before rising.

“It's not Gavin,” he called out, and Geoff slumped in relief, Jack too.

“Thank the gods,” Jack whispered.

“It's two zombies,” Dan continued, making his way back over. “There's a dead draugr over here too. He must have killed them.”

“ _Gavin_ killed them?” Ray demanded.

“He could barely swing a sword back in the tournament,” Matt pointed out, and Michael glared at him. He looked terribly upset, shaken by the blood and scrap of scarf.

“If that's not his body, then he's alive,” he snapped. “He has my sword. I'm sure he can do something with _that_. He's fine,” he added, nearly a whisper as he turned away. “He's fucking _fine_.”

There was a painful desperation in his voice, and Ray looked upset too as Michael stormed over to yank the arrows out of the tree. Even Ryan felt oddly hollow to watch him. Michael never bothered to hide his emotions and it was clear that it wasn't just the crown he was after, it was Gavin too.

_His father wouldn't have cared for a fool,_ Ryan thought with a pang. _But Michael does._

_And your mother wouldn't have. But here you are, afraid for his life._ He didn't like to dwell on it.

“Let's keep going then,” Geoff said, only for his voice to crack horribly. He turned away, swallowing a few times – Jack rubbed his shoulder – and when he turned back his face was carefully hard.

“Let's keep going,” he repeated, and they gathered themselves and began to move on.

Dan came up by Michael's side and held his hand out.

“Let me have it?” he asked, and Michael dropped the scrap of scarf in his hand. Dan stared down at it for a moment, lips pressed tightly together, eyes burning, before he looped it through his belt like a favour, adjusted his grip on his sword, and marched on.

As there was more space walking alongside the river, the party spread out a little, keeping an eye out so no creepers could sneak up on them. Jack had fallen back alongside Dan as Ryan ended up coming to the front beside Geoff.

“He is close to the fool,” he murmured after a moment, and Geoff glanced up at him. He looked awful, Ryan noticed absently – more stressed than he'd been even through the entire competition. He thought of the blood they'd found by the tree, and felt sick.

“They're best friends,” Geoff replied.

“How did that come about? I thought you and Jack were the ones he was closest to.”

“It's different,” Geoff said, voice tight. “They're like brothers. When they were children, they became friends briefly when Gavin's circus went to perform near the village Dan lived in. He was there for a week or so – they became close in that time, but never thought they'd see each other again. Then Dan joined the plains army, became a soldier of my court – and years later when Gavin came to live with us, they were reunited. Dan has little family left. You already know Gavin has none. Dan would do anything for him,” he added, and Ryan pressed his lips together.

“It seems he's not the only one,” he murmured, and Geoff let out a choked little noise. He wasn't bothering to hide his upset now, not even in front of Ryan. There was something distressing in that, no matter how Ryan felt about him.

“Gavin trusts very few people. But Dan is one of them. The bond of childhood friends is a strong one, it seems,” Geoff added. “Hell, look at Michael and Ray. And Jack and I. The people who loved us as children are usually the ones who stick with us.”

“I wouldn't know,” Ryan said stiffly, before he could quite stop himself. For a moment, Geoff paused and stared at him. Something in that statement seemed to have struck him – he stared at Ryan, as though realising something about him for the first time.

It made Ryan suddenly uncomfortable, but before he had to react, a sudden earsplitting noise echoed through the entire Wild, making them all freeze and look about, Michael and Jeremy dropping into fighting stances, everyone else raising their weapons.

It was a roar, but unlike any that Ryan had ever heard before. There was an unearthly screech to it and it was so loud that it seemed to make the very ground tremble under them. The way it reverberated between the trees and canopy made it impossible to tell where it had come from, except that it was deafening and _horrible_ – it made Ryan's teeth ache, made his blood run cold, made his entire skin seem to crawl and hair stand on end.

It lasted for several, spine chilling moments before tapering away into silence that made their ears ring. They all glanced at each other, eyes huge – confusion and fear on everyone's faces.

“Ryan?” Michael asked, tentatively. “What the actual fuck was that?”

He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as everyone looked to him for answers.

“I have no fucking idea,” he replied. “There... there is no mob I've ever heard that makes that sound.”

“The beast,” Jack said quietly. “Whatever killed the king...”

“Fucking hell,” Geoff muttered, and he could see it in all their faces – _Gavin is headed towards that thing – why did it roar? Did it see him? Is he there even now? Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to face something that could make that sort of noise on his own._

There was nothing they could do but press on, but Ryan was properly uneasy now. He didn't like the unknown – at least with mobs he knew their weak points, but this, this was something he had absolutely no idea about, and there was something stilted and cautious in their movements as they hurried on.

He ended up dropping to the back of the party, watching them all ahead of them – this motley assortment from different kingdoms, all out of place in this land that belonged to no one. A chill ran down his spine, and he stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling as though something was watching him. It had been a long time since _he_ was the one being spied on – since he inherited the throne, he was the one whose gaze people had feared, who was said to see everything that went on in the fortress, hell, in the _Stoneworld_. But before that – his mother's eye had missed nothing. It felt like that now, the spine-tingling sensation of being _watched_.

He turned slowly and froze. In the distant darkness of the forest, two purple eyes glinted, watching him – directly meeting his gaze.

_Enderman_.

They wouldn't attack a human, he knew – not unless provoked – but knowing it was watching him as he turned away had him uneasy suddenly.

He remembered the children's tales. _Endermen can see into your soul. Beware seeing one outside your window – they know when you have done bad things. They follow those who have heavy, full consciences – unconfessed sins. They sense it. They_ know.

Children's horror stories. Old wives' tales. But now – now he was unsettled, and somehow when he glanced over his shoulder again and the eyes were gone, leaving him unsure if it had been some trick of the light, he didn't feel any better.

_Don't think about it now_ , he told himself – but he could feel his control slipping ever further from him, and there was a cold knot in his stomach as he shook himself and jogged to catch up with the others.

 

* * *

 

Gavin skidded to a stop as the mouth of the cavern loomed up ahead of him.

He paused, checked the map, and checked where he stood. The trees had tapered away as a rocky cliff face loomed up ahead of him, and there was a dark opening in that. It looked faintly artificial, like someone had taken a pickaxe to it and started hacking away only for it to end up opening into a hollow space anyway. This was it, he realised, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. The crown was right here. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes.

The rain had stopped some time ago, and the Wild should have been silent around him – except now, as he listened, he could hear a faint bubbling noise, and distant, rushing water. It wasn't the river – that was long behind him.

He took a deep breath, gripped the redstone torch tighter, and walked into the cavern.

It was very dark. The sound of water grew louder, seeming to echo through the space around him. For a while the ground sloped steeply downhill, then the narrow cave neck opened up into a larger room, a seemingly natural hollow in the mountain that levelled out into a flat, sandy floor. It smelt awful in here, a sickening, sweet tang to the air, like rotting meat. He froze as he caught sight of a dark shape on the ground ahead of him.

“Hello?” he called out softly. His voice echoed around far more loudly than he'd anticipated, making a shiver crawl down his spine – a second later, he thought he heard something shifting and moving, but the acoustics of the place made it impossible to tell where it was coming from. He froze – but nothing appeared, and after a moment he inched forward and crouched next to the body, raising the light.

“Oh, gods,” he choked, turning away and gagging, both at the smell and the sight.

It was the Wild king. It had to be. Geoff had said the man was torn apart, but somehow Gavin hadn't quite managed to picture it. But this man had been quite literally torn to pieces – his head lolled at an odd angle and was barely attached to his body, and his torso had been completely ripped open, blackened and decomposing entrails spilling onto the ground beside him. One arm was missing, and his body was barely in one piece – Gavin was certain if he'd tried to move him, the corpse would have split completely in half.

Bile rose up in his throat and he turned away, head pounding and mouth filling with bitter saliva as he struggled not to throw up.

“Holy shit. Shit, shit. Okay.” He took a few deep breaths and regretted it immediately as the smell filled his senses again. “Fuck. This is a thing. Holy fuck.”

What could have _done_ this? _Fight the beast._ It'd seemed a lot easier in his head!

For a moment, doubt struck – he wondered if maybe he'd made a terrible mistake. If maybe he couldn't do this. But as he caught his breath and his stomach settled – as he realised how far he'd already come, how he'd already shed _blood_ for this, the wounds on his arm and face still stinging dully – he thought of how it would feel to have the Wild under his command. To have free reign to wander here, to find the answers he sought about his parents – to, for the first time, not be relying on everyone else around him.

A renewed determination swelled in him.

_You got this far. You have stolen from kings. You have survived everything that was thrown at you growing up. None of them think you can do it – but you can. Of course you can_.

He turned back to the body and took note of what he'd only vaguely registered the first time: the crown was not there. There was no way someone else had come along and taken it – the other kings would've felt if someone had already put it on. But Geoff had said quite clearly that the crown was with the body – maybe he'd meant further in the cave.

Gavin straightened up. That was when he noticed it – towards the back of the cave, there was a faint glowing light. He frowned, letting his redstone light dim – sure enough, there was something back there that was lighting things up. It looked like the cavern went much, much deeper into the cliff – and sloped underground again – than he'd initially thought.

He inched closer, and paused as he suddenly heard something out there – a shuffling, scuffling footstep – he kept the light dim, pressed himself against the wall, and headed forward with light steps, keeping to the shadows where he knew his scarf would help him blend in.

He reached the back of the cavern – and froze.

It opened into an enormous, underground space. He was standing on the edge of a precipice and the ground completely opened up below him – uneven, rocky walls and various platforms either jutting out from the sides of the ravine, or formed by enormous pillars of rock that rose up from deep below.

The source of the light was lava.

Gavin had never seen it before, but he'd read about it and recognised the molten liquid immediately. It was running in streams from sources deep in a few of the walls, a cascading waterfall of fire that pooled at the bottom of the cavern – there was ground down there, some sort of black stone, but it was a dizzyingly long drop. Gavin could feel the heat from here, and see it bubbling – occasionally spitting and spattering against the rock walls, little plumes of steam rising up everywhere it touched.

There was water, too, also running in streams and crevices down the walls. The mixture of red and white was beautiful, and he could see ore in the walls – sparkling stone of some sort, flecks of colourful rocks. Parts of the ceiling were open to the air, and the trees that stretched over the gaps had sent enormous vines hanging down into the space at intervals.

It was a scene of natural beauty that he'd never witnessed before in the grass and forests of the plains – something he'd never have expected to find here in the heart of the Wild.

The air was hot, and smelt sulphurous – it was a little hard to breathe – but a flicker of movement caught his eye, and he inched closer to the edge of the platform he was on and froze.

Well. There was the beast.

On one of the largest platforms, sticking out from one of the walls about halfway down the ravine, stood a horned giant. It looked for all intents and purposes like a giant bull, standing upright on two legs – but it was no animal. Not a mob, either. It stood as tall as a house, with enormous, wickedly curved horns.

From here, he couldn't see its face. It was unclothed, but it didn't look like any worldly fauna. He didn't think it had fur. Its flesh was black and mottled with specks of glowing red like cinders – and there was an odd shimmer of dark energy around it when it moved. Something unnatural about it, uneasy to look at, like no human eyes had been meant to see it. It had hooves at its feet, but fists at its hands. He had never seen anything like it-

And it was wearing the crown.

He could see it even from here, a glint of flashing green reflected in the light around them, atop its head.

Something about that unsettled him. It was obviously sentient, or at least intelligent enough, to have at some point taken the crown, _put it on_ , and then climbed back down here. But it hadn't received the gift – none of the other kings had sensed it being crowned – so the crowns must only work on humans. And this was certainly no human.

“What the fuck,” he managed to breathe, staring down at it. Funnily, he wasn't scared. He had been afraid of too many things in his life to be afraid now. If anything he was _intrigued_ , because he had never even heard _stories_ about this sort of creature existing.

_I think it might be a demon_.

He believed in demons. Witches, too. Curses, magic – no matter what Ryan said. He didn't think he believed in gods – or at least, not the kinds that answered your prayers. He'd been disappointed more than enough times by that.

With a sudden, huffing snort that echoed around the cavernous chamber, it suddenly turned towards him. Gavin caught a glimpse of glowing purple eyes before he ducked back against the nearest wall. It hadn't seen him – he was breathing heavily. His heart was pounding. But he still wasn't quite _scared_.

He peered out from the wall again to see the creature stalking away.

_What does it eat,_ was all he could think, absurdly. _Has it been living down here this whole time?_

He thought of how Michael might've come here with his troupe of fierce warriors to fight the beast, had he won the crown. With their brute-force charging tactics, he couldn't imagine them trying to climb down there unseen, let alone battle the creature without falling off the platform.

Or Geoff, and his army – but that unsettled him suddenly. He didn't like the thought of Geoff here in this hellish pit – had sudden horrible thoughts of the other man torn apart like the king up in the entrance to the cavern. He shook them away.

_Don't think about Geoff_.

Now, Ryan – Ryan he could see coming here, and considering the situation, and then using his gift to turn the entire rocky cavern into redstone. Making it glow red hot and burning the beast to death with that, leaving a shining crimson cave in his wake. Washed over in blood-red light, exhausted and drained from using so much magic, but a steely determination in his face as he picked up the crown from the fallen beast's head.

Maybe Ryan would have had the easiest victory of all of them. But he wasn't here.

None of them were here.

Gavin was, and he wanted to slay him a monster as well.

He wiped his hands against his pants, and turned off the torch, pushing it through his belt. There was more than enough light here to see by. Then he gripped the sword, and peered out again, looking for a way down.

The beast still hadn't seen him. If he was quick and quiet, he could move unnoticed – he traced a path around the walls of the cavern, mentally jumping from platform to platform – and he could leap at it from above and take it by surprise.

_There is no turning back_ , he thought – once it saw him, he would have to kill it or be killed – he took a deep breath, and stepped out into the cavern, inching along the little ledge from where he was that led along the wall towards the next platform.

It was a narrow bit of rock – barely big enough for him to put his entire foot on, and with an uneven surface. If he leaned even a little forward, he could see the horrifying drop down to the lava below. But Gavin had never been scared of heights, and he had impeccable balance – he hadn't been joking when he told Michael he'd walk on the wall on his hands – and he made his way easily along before leaping nimbly to another platform, following the path he'd planned out in his head. He scrambled along the top of the jutting pillar of rock and then sprang to another – then took hold of one of the vines hanging nearby and used it to swing down to the highest of a series of jutting boulders that formed a staircase of sorts which wound around the curved stone wall above the largest of the platforms, on which the beast was standing.

As he flew through the air, he saw it turn towards him – but he dropped immediately to the ground when he landed and lay still, hoping the mottled material of his scarf would conceal him.

From down below, there was little way it could see him up here – not from that low angle – but he lay still for a long moment anyway. Next to him one of the waterfalls was rushing by, splashing him now and then. It might've made anyone else dizzy. He didn't think Geoff could have climbed down the way he had.

When he finally looked up, the beast had turned away again. He got to his feet and took a deep breath, clutching the sword in both hands. The potion of strength still had the blood surging through his veins, was making running and leaping and _fighting_ so much easier. If this was a regular sword, he thought, he'd've been done for. But Michael's diamond blade was so powerful that even handled clumsily, as he had been, it was a formidable weapon. All it had to do was make contact to do proper damage. He was relying on that – plus his acrobatic skill – to get him through this.

_One shot._ He'd never done anything like this before. But he took a deep breath, and before the beast could turn around again, he launched himself off the platform and towards the beast, the sword plunging down towards it in a devastating drop attack.

He struck true.

The blade sank into the beast's shoulder and it _roared_ in pain, a horrible, ear-splitting sound that seemed to make the entire cavern tremble. Gavin clung for dear life to the hilt of the sword, but a second later the beast thrashed and lifted one enormous hand, batting him off. The great fist struck him and he flew through the air, skidding across the ground even as he tried to land in a roll – he was winded, his skin scraped roar and aching from the impact as he struggled to get his breath back.

“Fuck,” he hissed out as he scrambled to his feet. His side hurt, and while he'd done damage to the beast – more of that shimmering dark energy seemed to be trickling from its injured shoulder like ash – it had already pulled the sword out and flung it away, and it stormed towards Gavin now with another screeching roar and punched a massive fist towards the ground.

Gavin leaped out of the way nimbly, throwing himself into a neat side-roll. The creature's enormous fist hit the rock hard enough to make the entire platform shake, but Gavin was already rising to his feet and sprinting to where the sword lay sparkling on the ground. He snatched it up again and turned to face the beast, panting – it was slowly turning to look at him as well. Its eyes shone such an intense shade of purple that it was nearly hypnotic – made him a bit nauseous to look at, there was something so unnatural to the colour.

He could feel sticky blood trickling down his cheek where the wounds had opened again. His arm was bleeding too. But adrenaline was rushing through his veins, and when the beast charged him again he stood his ground before jumping aside at the last minute and slashing at it with the sword. The blade cut at its arm and it roared again before suddenly whipping another punch at him-

Only for him to flip backwards out of the way and catch himself easily, a lifetime of gymnastics training kicking in and making it easy for him to throw himself out of the way without losing his balance. The only thing hindering him was having to hold the long sword, but even then when it charged him again he flung himself aside and sprang back up without missing a beat.

_High ground,_ he thought, and ran back towards the staircase of boulders, hoping to jump at it again. It swiped at him, but he dodged, and scrambled up onto the first of the boulders before leaping to the next one. The beast retreated, and he took the chance to make his way up – only to freeze when he noticed it turning, this time holding an enormous rock with both hands. It seemed to have wrenched the bloody thing out of the wall, and he barely had a second to register it before the piece of debris was hurtling through the air towards him.

“Shit!” he squawked, and flung himself into a crouch, arms rising to cover his head. The boulder hit the wall behind him and shattered, shards of rock and dirt raining down him. He shook them off and continued to the top of the platform, where he leaped immediately off, not wanting to give the beast time to register what he was doing.

This time it was his own wild cry that echoed through the chamber. Once again the sword sank easily into the creature's back, directly in the centre of its spine – he clung on this time, teeth clenched, trying to drive it further in as it roared and tried to shake him off.

“You bitch, come on you bitch,” he hissed – any mortal creature would've been dead by now with the diamond sword buried to the hilt in what should've been its spinal cord.

But the beast just reached around, and the next thing Gavin knew one of its giant hands was closing around him. It yanked him off like it was pulling a leech from its skin – squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe as he struggled and squirmed – its flesh was burning hot to the touch, like being wrapped in fire - and the next thing he knew, it was throwing him towards the lava.

The world spun around him. Rock – flame – _heat_ – he hurtled through the air only to fling his hands out and catch himself as he tumbled towards the edge. He flipped a few times, caught himself on his hands, and for a horrible moment teetered right on the edge of the platform, swaying back and forth and struggling to balance. His fingers were right next to the drop, he could see the red glint of lava in his peripheral – could feel pebbles and gravel crumbling away from the edge and tumbling down into the boiling liquid-

But he swung himself back from his handstand and landed on his side on flat, solid ground, wheezing in a ragged breath. It felt like all his ribs had been crushed, like his lungs couldn't get enough air in. But he was _alive_ , and he took stock of that for a moment, feeling dizzy for one of the first times in his life.

_Fucking gods. I nearly died_.

And then, humourlessly-

_What did I fucking tell you, Dan, these tricks will save your life one day-_

A loud grunt from the beast and the sound of crumbling rock had him snapping back to attention. The beast was ripping another of the boulders from the wall, turning and lifting it back above its head, ready to throw it at him.

Gavin froze.

He was right on the edge of the platform, with nowhere to run – the piece of rock was huge, he couldn't jump out of the way in time – he twisted, looking behind him, and caught sight of a small ledge sticking out of this platform, some distance below.

In an act of sheer desperation, he lowered himself over the edge and dropped down to the ledge.

For a terrifying moment, he slipped on the loose bits of gravel and his hands scrabbled against the wall as he struggled to regain his balance. The ledge was tiny; there was barely room for him to stand, and he was acutely aware of the drop to the lava below.

A second later, he saw the massive chunk of debris hurtle overhead and plummet down past him. He watched it fall, and fall, until it hit the lava with a splash and was swallowed immediately. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed his cheek to the rock wall in front of him,

The monster probably thought he'd fallen over the edge. Indeed, a moment later he heard its footsteps and its noisy, snuffling breath as it came to look for him. He pressed himself closer to the wall, hoping that from this angle it couldn't see him – after what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or so, it retreated with a snort and he finally let out the breath he'd been holding.

_Bloody hell. Fuck. Okay. Can this thing even be killed?_

He'd gone too far to run away now. And there was nowhere to go but back up onto the platform. After waiting a few more minutes, he grit his teeth and started to climb back up. The rock wall was uneven and rough enough that there were plenty of hand and footholds, and while he was used to climbing around, the knowledge that there was nothing but molten lava below him made him much more careful than he usually was – especially since his arm was still sore, his ribs aching and bruised.

Fortunately it wasn't a huge climb. Before long he was pulling himself back up over the edge.

Unluckily for him, the beast was facing the edge he'd climbed up on. As soon as it saw him emerge, it let out a furious bellow and charged towards him again. Another massive fist swung at him, and Gavin rolled sideways, dived between its legs, and sprinted for the diamond sword, which he could see stuck into the ground some distance away.

It appeared the beast had thrown the sword with enough force to drive it into the rock ground of the platform. Luckily, with the potion of strength still taking effect, Gavin was able to wrench it free just as the beast lunged at him again – he dived backwards, barely managing to catch himself and spring back up.

_Time to end this_ , he thought – it was no use trying to exhaust the damn thing, it probably never tired. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath before charging at it in a proper offensive attack.

The beast lashed out an arm at him – but he swung his sword right back, unflinching, putting all his might into it.

The sword met the beast's arm. For a moment, there was a shivering resistance – then it sliced clean through, cutting through the limb at the elbow. Gavin stumbled and the beast roared again, staggering back, trailing black energy. The dismembered arm immediately crumbled away into something like ash, a mass of black flakes and powder that fell to the ground.

“Ha ha ha!” he cried, gleeful. _I'll just keep chopping bits off it!_

The beast lumbered towards him again – he charged it, pressing his advantage, and swung the sword in a flurry of blows. Unfortunately his lack of technique meant he picked bad angles, and while he sliced at its flesh a few times, it didn't do as much damage.

A mistimed swipe had him stumbling as the sword cut through nothing but air, and before he could recover the beast suddenly leapt into the air and kicked out at him with both hooves. He barely dived out of the way in time, but he wasn't expecting it to lash out again so soon – the next thing he knew another hoof was flying in his direction, and he didn't quite dodge far enough. The strike clipped him in the side and he fell backwards, pain exploding in his ribs.

It felt like being hit with a warhammer; a solid, powerful blow that he was certain cracked something. He crumpled to the ground with a cry, clutching at his side – the beast ducked down low and swung its head at him with a roar. He threw himself aside – crying out again as he hit the ground and pain burst through his ribs again – the beast's horns whipped through the air right where he'd been seconds before; he could see how sharp they were, how they would have gored him to pieces like the Wild king had been.

“Fuck,” he ground out, and heaved himself to his feet, using the sword for support. His side was on fire but he swallowed it down, forcing himself to retreat back across the platform as the beast stumbled from the momentum of hitting nothing but air.

_Shit. Okay._ He was injured now, and while adrenaline was keeping him upright, he realised that going on the offensive again probably wouldn't be a good idea. _How to kill this bloody thing? It's down one arm but I can't get close to it..._

_Think, Gavin. You're not stupid. Think your way through this._

_How can you kill it?_

Cutting its arm off had put it down a fist, but didn't slow it much. Short of trying to lop every single limb off, it was clear that he had two options: push it over the edge somehow, or chop its fucking head off.

_I can't push it over,_ he realised – _the crown will fall into the lava as well._

He couldn't lose that, not after fighting so hard.

_Think, Gavin..._

_A distraction. I need a distraction_. He was the only damn living thing on this platform – the beast was turning towards him again, and he moved as quickly as he could back towards the boulders, hoping to climb up and get the high ground again, at least get out of range of its kicks and blows.

He stumbled when the creature charged at him again only to come up short as he scrambled up the boulders out of reach – his side hurting, he fell back onto his ass against the wall and yelped when something hard dug into him.

_The redstone torch._

It struck him suddenly – a half-formed idea that he wasn't even sure would work – the dregs of everything he'd read in all those scientific papers back in Geoff's library coming together into one wild scheme.

Before he had time to second guess it, the beast started ripping more boulders out of the wall, tearing the stairs down after him. He scrambled to the top and thought _fuck it._

_It will work._

_Or I'll die_.

He pulled the torch out and turned it on, as high as it could go. It began to glow – brighter and brighter, becoming hot to touch. He ignored how it was burning his hand and lifted it higher, until it shone so brightly it hurt to look at.

The beast roared below him and Gavin took a deep breath. The beam of light coming from the torch was intense, focused, and he turned it now towards the blade of the diamond sword.

The effect was instantaneous. The beam hit the sword and created a reflection of dazzling brightness, impossible to look at. Gavin directed it towards the beast, who'd stopped what it was doing at the sudden light, and angled it directly into its eyes.

It worked.

The monster let out an anguished howl, spinning around and pawing at its eyes with its one remaining hand. It was clearly blinded, stumbling and off balance, and Gavin lowered the torch. He didn't have any time to second guess his decision, to do any more planning. All he could do was _act_.

Dropping the torch, he reached out and grabbed one of the long, swinging vines that hung down from the ceiling. Wrapped it a few times around his wrist, gripped it tightly, raised the sword in his other hand, backed up as far as he could on the higher platform-

And then ran, and leapt, and swung.

Instinct kicked in. Instinct from an adolescence spent watching trapeze artists and fooling about with it himself – from years spent climbing, swinging, hanging from every available surface as he broke into houses or shops, robbing wealthy noblemen or rich merchants.

Muscles straining, he brought himself in a graceful arc towards the beast-

And then stretched out his arm and with all his strength, swung the sword at the beast's neck.

For a moment, he met resistance. For a moment, he thought he'd failed.

Then the enchanted blade forced its way through and came clean out the other side – he swung out over the lava for a terrifying moment before flying back the other way, watching breathless as the beast went still, and then its head slowly slid from its body and toppled to the floor.

He landed stumbling back on the ground, dropping to his knees as he watched the beast's body slowly crumble and disintegrate into a pile of black ash. The crown fell with a _clink_ and after that the cavern was silent except for the faint, dull rushing of the falling water and lava.

Gavin let the sword slip from his hand, breathing heavily.

_It's over,_ he thought. It wasn't quite registering yet. _I killed it._

Everything hurt. He could feel his wounds bleeding sluggishly, and his side screamed every time he took a breath. But all he could focus on was the crown, lying before him – a single, sparkling light amidst all the black dust. He crawled towards it, scrabbling through the crumbled remains of the beast to pick it up.

It was warm to the touch, and so beautiful that it took his breath away – an intricate, twisted design of some black, glassy material. Though the base where it sat on one's head was smooth, above that it was carved into a tangled circle of brambles and thorns, a mess of points that would be sharp enough to cut someone who grabbed it carelessly. At the very front of the crown was carved a skull, twinkling green gems embedded in its eyes.

He had seen Geoff's crown many times before. Had held it, even. There was something reassuringly solid about the heavy weight of the plains crown. But this one was different – that same funny, tingling feeling of energy that permeated the air of the Wild seemed to intensify a hundredfold as soon as he picked it up. He felt flooded with a sudden warmth that made the pain of all his injuries fade away.

He was going to wear this, he realised, with a sudden surge of fierce certainty. He was going to take every gift it gave him. He deserved it.

He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over it gently enough to avoid being cut by the thorned design.

_Mine._ Maybe not by birth. By right. By victory. By blood.

A sudden sound, echoing through the ravine, made him jolt upright. It was heavy footsteps, coming from the entrance to the cavern – every word, spoken too loudly, filled the chamber he was in.

“Holy shit, that's the other king.”

“His footprints are in the mud outside. He definitely went in here.”

“Gavin?” that was called out, the sound of his own name making an irrational shiver run down his spine. He couldn't tell whose voice it was. “Are you in here? Gav?”

He snatched the crown up and scrambled to his feet, heart pounding again, suddenly frantic. He didn't want to be found in this chamber – it was too dangerous. He feared that they would try to climb down to him and fall in the lava. It was the sort of stupid thing Geoff would attempt just to get to him.

And beyond that-

_They will try to take this from you_. He clutched the crown more tightly. _They want it. They don't think you should wear it._

_Well, I bloody earned it. No one can have it._ I _won it._

He looked around for somewhere else to go. In his injured state he doubted he could get back to the cavern door. Then he noticed it – another opening into the ravine on the opposite side of the expansive space. That, too, looked nearly manmade, the edges of it too smooth like it had been hollowed out by someone. Surely that led somewhere – there was a fairly easy series of platforms he could get to it by.

He could hear them getting closer, the noisy shuffle of armour and heavy boots ringing in from outside. They'd all be dead meat if the beast had still been in here, he thought wryly. They were not quiet like him. With no time to waste, he looped his arm through the crown, picked up the sword again, and made his way quickly over to the exit. It was quite high on the wall and he had to climb a tangle of vines to reach it, vanishing through just as he heard the others' footsteps and exclamations of shock as they reached the entrance to the cavern.

 

* * *

 

“There's Gavin!” Michael cried, as they entered the cavern in time to see a familiar figure darting out through a doorway on the other side of the space.

“Where?” Geoff shrieked, shoving past him. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the platform, Jack seizing him by the back of the shirt to stop him falling. Geoff didn't seem to care, looking frantically around. “Where the fuck is he?”

“He went through there.” Michael pointed, and Geoff let out a shaky breath.

“You sure it was him?” he demanded.

“Unless someone else is wearing green, yeah,” Michael said – he glanced at Ryan, seeking confirmation, and Ryan nodded. He'd been at the front of the party, and had seen it too.

“Holy shit,” Ray breathed next to him, and Ryan turned to see him staring into the ravine, eyes huge. He had to admit, it was an awe-striking sight, the falling streams of lava and water. The minerals he could see glittering in the rock walls. This place would make a fine mine, he thought absently.

“Where's the beast? We heard it before,” Jack pointed out. They looked around, but there was no sign of life.

“Who cares about the fucking beast,” Geoff snapped, already inching forward to find a path. “We need to go after Gavin! Why'd he run away?”

“Maybe he didn't realise it was us coming,” Jack suggested.

Ryan was already planning a path along the platforms. The opening Gavin had exited by was not hard to get to from here, if they were careful. As long as they all jumped to the nearest platform alright, there was a fairly clear path.

“I hope no one's afraid of heights,” he said flatly, and ushered Jeremy over. The other man was carrying a coil of rope, and quickly caught on to what Ryan wanted. They bound themselves together in threes by their belts, just in case anyone fell – Michael, Ray and Jeremy, Dan with Geoff and Jack, and then Ryan and Matt together.

Fortunately, everyone was agile enough to make the jump easily, and from there they managed to get to the exit. They worked in a tense silence – it was so hot in here from the lava that they were soon sweating and grimy, but at least they all made it to the exit in one piece.

“We have no idea where he's run from here,” Geoff said worriedly, nearly cutting himself in his haste to slice the ropes apart. As soon as he was free he was climbing the tangled mess of vines up to the exit and vanishing through – they followed him quickly.

The exit was a small tunnel leading back out through the cliff. It opened into a large glade, jungle surrounding the clearing – it was a relief to get out into the fresh air after both the oppressive heat of the ravine and the humidity of the canopy earlier.

The storm had passed, and most of the clouds had gone with it. They'd been out here so long that night had fallen by now, and there was a large moon shining down, but their redstone torches still provided most of the light. There was a chill in the night air, and something else – some lurking unease, the dread that permeated the entire Wild seeming suddenly even more intense than it had before.

They stumbled out into the clearing only for Geoff to let out a frustrated cry.

“He could've gone anywhere!” he yelled.

“Or you could turn around, Geoffrey,” a familiar voice rang out.

They all froze, turning.

The exit to ravine came out of a steep hill that quickly sloped into the bare rocky cliff face. The trees on either side of the cliff had trunks twisted at nearly ninety degree angles, forming a platform about halfway up the cliff. Gavin was standing on top of it, staring down at them all. The bright moon behind him cast a pale, silvery halo around him, but even from this angle Ryan could see that he was covered in blood and grime.

Geoff nearly sobbed in relief at the sight of him. He started forward, then paused, unsure how to climb up to where Gavin was.

“Gods – gods, Gavin, you're okay – are you alright, you're bleeding-”

“Gavin,” Dan called out, his voice ragged with relief too. “Thank the gods-”

"Are you okay?” Jack called out simultaneously. “You're hurt.”

“I'm fine.” Gavin straightened up, one hand pressed to his side. His scarf was torn, his clothing tattered, and one half of his face had what looked a hell of a lot like claw marks in it. But his eyes were blazing emeralds, a wild fierceness in them that Ryan had never seen before. “I'm not too hurt.”

“Fucking hell, Gavin,” Geoff snapped then, his voice thick and choked. “What the fuck were you _thinking_ , we... we saw your scarf, and the arrows, back at the river – we thought you were hurt, thought you might be _dead_ -”

“I'm fine,” Gavin repeated. There was a funny calmness in his voice, and Geoff trailed off into silence as he seemed to realise something was wrong here. Jack, too, was staring up at him with wide eyes, but there was something unsettled in his face.

“Hi Dan,” Gavin said finally, breaking the silence as his eyes flickered to his friend.

Dan raised a hand, but lowered it soon after, falling quiet too as he realised something was going on that none of them quite understood yet.

“That's the crown,” Ryan said suddenly, as he noticed the black band hanging over Gavin's arm. This close, he could sense it, a funny magical tug like when he called on his gift. Something begging to fill the emptiness that'd lurked in the back of all his senses since the Wild king died. “Hand it over.”

Gavin met his eyes, and Ryan stared back at him, trying to look composed but struggling when finally, finally he'd laid eyes on the other man again, and the relief that he was alive and okay was warring with that lurking _fear_ that everything was about to fall apart.

“Who won the games?” Gavin asked then, his eyes flickering to Michael, who'd been staring at the sword hanging in his other hand.

The Alpine king stirred.

“It was a draw,” he replied. “Between Ryan and I. We decided the winner would be whoever killed the beast, but it wasn't in there.”

Gavin stared at them for a long moment. Then he started laughing.

“Ha!” he cried. “Then I am the winner! _I_ killed the beast! It was a devil-bull that walked on two legs, ten times my size and filled with some dark magic. But I slew it. I cut its head off and took the crown!”

“ _You_ killed the beast,” Ray said, disbelieving, and Gavin stopped laughing abruptly and turned to him with a cold glare that looked so out of place on his face that it made them all fall silent.

“Yes, _Ray_ ,” he spat, and suddenly shook out his clothes. Some sort of black, powdery substance rained down on them, making them choke and sputter as they stepped back. “I sent it into a pile of dust! Go back in that ravine and find it.”

They stared at him. There was a funny, almost rabid defiance in his face, his voice, his jerking gestures. Like he'd completely stopped giving a fuck about propriety, or respect, or his own place compared to the rest of them.

“Gavin,” Geoff spoke up again. “Thank you. The plains needed this crown so badly and... it was dangerous, but I know you did it for-”

“I didn't do it for you,” Gavin cut in, and Geoff's mouth snapped shut. Gavin stared at him intently, and though he hesitated for a second, he quickly pushed on. “I didn't do it for you or for anyone.”

He met Ryan's eyes, and Ryan stared back at him blankly. There was a dawning horror building up in his chest – not quite sinking in yet, but making his blood run cold from his heart to the very tips of his extremities.

_I have been played_ , was all he could think, but it still didn't feel real yet.

“Then you've stolen it,” he said flatly, and Gavin tilted his head.

“You know, I used to be a thief,” he said. “I know what _steal_ means. This was not stealing – it didn't belong to anyone. If I stole it, it was from the beast.”

“You stole the keys and potions from me,” Ryan snapped – and the anger was rising up now. “You stole from Michael.”

“Borrowed,” Gavin corrected, and lifted the sword, looking at it. “You can have this back, Michael. It was great, by the way. It saved my life.”

“What the fuck is happening, Gavin?” Michael demanded. There was confusion under his anger. “You... you told me to let you into my room just so you could take that? What the fuck-”

“You all just _made up_ the games,” Gavin cut in. He spoke high and fast, an excited passion in his voice. “You literally just _made them up_. Rules that you four agreed to but that no one _else_ in these damn kingdoms did. No one has a right to this crown, so anyone can take it while you're off _playing_ and just _deciding_ that it _has_ to be one of you who puts it on. I killed the beast! So I won it! You're right,” he added, glancing at Ryan. “I _am_ sick of being controlled.”

Ryan's blood ran cold.

_No_ , he thought, but couldn't say anything. His chest seized up, his tongue dead in his mouth, unable to find any words. Just watch, horrified, as everything fell apart around him.

“I want to find my family,” Gavin continued – ranting now to a horrified audience, staring up at him in silence. Performing for them once again, a show that none of them had expected – that none of them wanted to witness, but couldn't look away from. “I need to, it's... it's all I have. And no one else would help me! Even you, Ryan,” he cut in, when Ryan opened his mouth to protest. “You still wanted things from me. Maybe you wouldn't admit it – but you wanted to hurt Geoff by getting close to me. You wanted me to help with your creeper experiments. And you'd never have given me the crown, not when you could've worn it yourself – isn't that what you said? No one would pass up power. And everyone has an agenda – everyone will step on anyone else to get what they want.”

“You told me you didn't want power,” Michael piped up – his voice was tight, and quiet, and so different from his usual bellowing and yelling that it took Ryan aback.

Gavin looked upset for the first time as he met Michael's eyes.

“It's not about power,” he said softly, and then turned to Ryan again. The Stone king closed his eyes briefly, knowing exactly how the sentence finished.

_It's about control._

_So that's how it is, fool. I should have known it was all too good to be true. Well played, I have to admit. You really had me going. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same._

“Sorry, Michael,” Gavin continued, after a moment of lingering silence. “Of everybody here, you don't deserve this. I did like you, you know. That wasn't a lie. I wanted to be your friend, I just... I needed things, and you could give them to me. But you don't need to worry. You have Ray! The two of you, united, are just as powerful as if you'd won the crown yourself. You don't _need_ this victory.”

Michael just closed his eyes, turning away, his shoulders very tense. Ray reached a hand out towards him, then thought better and let it drop helplessly back to his side.

“But I do,” Gavin continued softly, and looked down at the crown. “I need it.”

“And me,” Ryan cut in, darkly.

“And me,” Geoff choked out as well. “What the fuck, Gavin, you're telling me that _you're_ going to put on that crown-”

“Yes Geoff,” Gavin burst out. And he was furious now, emotion making his voice shake, “Yes, I am going to put on this fucking crown! You never thought I would, did you? _Any_ of you. You never thought that maybe I could do this too, that maybe I had a chance! You and your fucking _games_ that only _kings_ can enter – well, none of that matters. Michael told me how it is. It doesn't matter about birthrights, or winners, or who can shoot a fucking arrow the best. Whoever puts on the crown is the bloody king!”

“Gavin,” Jack began quietly, but Gavin was shaking his head furiously – he sounded on the verge of tears, worked up suddenly, obviously not taking in anything they were saying.

“No one ever thought,” he continued, frenzied, “That I would become king of the Wild because I hunted down the beast on my own, and took this crown, and put it right on my own damn head! Well, fuck you all, to be quite honest!”

“After everything we _had_ together,” Geoff began, and Gavin let out a furious sort of bark, the hand holding the crown cutting angrily through the air.

“I gave you everything,” he yelled, and it was hard to tell if it was hysterical laughter or tears that bubbled up under the words. “ _Everything_ , and when it came down to it you wanted this crown more than you cared about me-”

“That's not true!” Geoff cried. “Gavin-”

“Even you, Jack,” Gavin continued, and Jack flinched, but before he could say anything Gavin threw his hands up angrily.

“ _It's not the right time_ ,” he repeated mockingly. “That's what you kept saying, right? When will it _ever_ be the time?”

Ryan was suddenly not quite sure whether Gavin was speaking of finding his parents, or the unspoken words that had hung between him, and Jack, and Geoff, for far too long now. From the looks on Jack and Geoff's face, he could tell they weren't sure either.

“I'll make it the time,” Gavin continued furiously. “And _Ryan_ ,” he added, something mocking in it, lips twisting as he turned towards him. “The Mad King. All your lovely words and pretty promises, but you never thought much of me either. A bad liar, wasn't that what you said? Not strong enough to kill anything.”

“I certainly never thought you could be so ruthless,” Ryan replied coldly, and Gavin laughed.

“It's not _ruthless_ ,” he replied. “Have I killed anybody? Have I injured any of you? Have I taken anything that _belonged_ to you that couldn't be replaced?”

“Yes,” Ryan replied, and it came out too soft, nearly _hurt. Yes, you have. You took everything I gave you and more – you let me get close, let me share my secrets with you, put my walls down, and all along it was – what? A scheme to get ahead? You let me think you trusted me. You let me trust you in turn._

Gavin stared at him for a long moment. Ryan couldn't help but hate how even now, Gavin seemed to see right through him to the vulnerability that he despised so much, that he tried to cover away and hide as much as possible. At least the other man knew what he meant without Ryan having to elaborate, and for a moment his face twisted, upset.

“You knew I was in love with Geoff,” he shot back. The words made Geoff and Jack balk, beside him, both exchanging a startled glance. Like hearing the words said out loud was a punch to the face. “And there you were trying to manipulate me into joining you instead-”

“I wasn't,” Ryan said. And at the other man's disbelieving look, “I _was not,_ Gavin. Stop this,” he added, a little franticness bleeding through, “We can still fix this, we can still have everything, just like I told you! Just give me the crown like we planned-”

“Like _you_ planned!” Gavin burst out, his anger flooding back in. “You want to put it on _your own head_! That's what you told me! I was just your second option if for some reason it didn't work! Well guess what, Ryan,” he spat. “I was _pretending_.”

Ryan flinched, unable to stop himself as reality slammed him in the face and he could no longer ignore it, no longer pretend that things could maybe be fixed – Gavin had lied, lied, _lied_ and he had fallen for it like a fool – the only person he'd gotten close to in _years_ and all along nothing had been real-

“I knew what you liked,” Gavin continued viciously. “A pretty, innocent, curious face. Someone who you could trust only because you didn't see them as a _threat_ to you. Well, I'm not as harmless as you all think. _Any_ of you.”

“You little bitch,” Ryan shot back, lashing out, needing to hurt him somehow, “Getting up on your high horse about how you've never killed, how you'd never _betray_ anyone. How _loyal_ you made yourself seem. You're right, I underestimated you. I didn't think you were enough of a traitorous, scheming _liar_ to manipulate someone like that. To make them trust you only to turn on them-”

“What do you think I'm good at?” Gavin cried, and his voice broke a little, something so _bitter_ in it that even Ryan fell silent. “That's all I'm meant to be good for, isn't it, Geoff? Gathering intel. Getting things from people. Well I've gotten a lot of things now! I did what you asked me, but I didn't do it for you!”

The words echoed through the clearing. There were tears freely running down Geoff's face now, but he looked _angry_ , above all – Jack was pale and silent and somehow smaller than he'd ever seemed before – Michael just looked shocked, and Ray's arms were folded, face blank as usual-

And Ryan – Ryan stood, frozen. He did not feel anything. It was a funny numbness that had taken over him years ago, but that he hadn't felt so acutely in a long time. He just stared, forced to tilt his head back to look at Gavin on his high platform, dimly aware of his heart pounding and how _cold_ he felt. How bleak and empty.

“You cannot rule,” Geoff said finally, flatly.

"Says who?” Gavin challenged, lips curling back in a feral sort of grin.

“You will ruin the plains with this,” Geoff snapped. “We need this, you know how much we _need this_ -”

“I didn't have anything to do with making that problem,” Gavin replied, stiffly. “It's not my job to solve it.”

“And your loyalty to me?”

“Was never repaid,” Gavin said instantly, and Geoff snapped his mouth shut, furious and trembling. Gavin glared right back at him before pointing a shaking finger at Ray.

“You don't need it,” he cried, and pointed at Michael next - “You don't need it.”

Ryan braced himself, and when the finger turned to him he stared coldly back at it, arms crossed.

“You sure as hell don't need it,” Gavin hissed, and Ryan thought of his golem army and could only sneer back at him. Gavin turned to Geoff then, and for a moment his control flickered, something lost and childish and _hurt_ under the surface-

But then his face shuttered down into something angry, and cold, and determined, and Ryan could only wonder at how Geoff had managed to lose so much _love_ that had been there before.

“And you,” Gavin finished, voice tight. “You didn't earn it.”

Before their horrified eyes, he lifted the crown up above his head. It sparkled in the moonlight, the sharp spikes glinting like some weapon or torture device. They all yelled indignantly, starting forward – Ray went so far as to nock an arrow and raise his bow, only for Michael to grab his arm and force it back down.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Geoff screamed, voice breaking – he started forward, then let out a cry of frustration when he couldn't find a way up to the platform.

“None of you ever dreamed this would happen,” Gavin shouted back, voice thick.

“Gavin, don't,” Jack called out too. “You don't know what it's like, you don't know what happens when you put on-”

“Try and bloody well stop me,” Gavin replied.

“Gavin, do not put that fucking crown on!” Geoff shouted – Michael and Ray were yelling at each _other_ , still wrestling over the bow, and-

“B, are you sure-”

“Fucking hell, someone _stop him-_ ”

“Ray don't you fucking _shoot him-”_

“I won't kill him just-”

“Don't do it, Gav, don't you fucking _do it_ -”

“Just _wait_ -”

“You don't know what it's like,” Jack repeated desperately, “It's not-”

“You are about to make a lot of very powerful enemies,” was Ryan's contribution – he didn't think Gavin could even hear him, over Geoff screaming himself hoarse and everyone else shouting and swearing.

“Just a pawn,” Gavin shouted suddenly – they fell silent, and he met Ryan's glare. “That's what you said, wasn't it? Thank you for helping me realise it. You were right.”

Ryan stared at him, hate swelling in his chest – the pebbles in the dirt under his feet were glowing faintly red, and he knew Gavin could _tell_ just how furious he was, how _hurt_. The other man didn't care. He was looking at Geoff now.

“Well, what happens when a pawn reaches the other end of the board?” he spat, and lifted his chin, eyes blazing. “That's right. _I know how to play chess_.”

Geoff stared helplessly at him. And before anyone could stop him, Gavin shot them all a last furious look and lowered the crown onto his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my playlist](http://8tracks.com/8ofhearts/the-fool-king) for the king c:


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to wardens-oath who made [this fanmix for Gavin](http://8tracks.com/caketin/wild-fury) and [this one for Ryan](http://8tracks.com/caketin/stone-cold). They’re fab <3

The moment Gavin put the Wild crown on his head, three things happened at once.

A pulse of green light shot out of the crown, an expanding circle of energy that rustled their hair, the grass, the leaves of the trees around the clearing.

At the same time, the other four kings all jolted like they'd been slapped. Ray even stumbled at the feeling that suddenly overcame him. He'd felt the same thing six months ago with Michael, though not as intensely. Since the Wild king died, there had been a nagging emptiness at the back of his mind. An incompleteness, like some piece of his consciousness was missing. Now it suddenly filled – a swelling warmth in his chest was the physical effect, but it was more than that. It was a _relief_ , like finally remembering something that you'd forgotten and had been straining to recall. For the first time in weeks, he felt _whole_.

And in the middle of all this, Gavin collapsed to the ground, screaming.

The blaze of light didn't fade away completely, but stayed around him, a shimmering glow over his whole body as he twisted and writhed. Dan let out a distressed shout, stepping forward.

“Gavin!” he cried, helplessly.

Jack grabbed his arm when he made to try and climb up to where the other man was, and Dan shook him off furiously, turning to him with wide eyes.

“What's happening to him?” he demanded, and flinched as another agonised cry tore from Gavin's lips. “Jack, what's going on?”

Jack opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Ryan stepped forward and all eyes turned to him.

The Mad King's face was hard as stone, a mocking sneer painted across his features as he tilted his head at Gavin. Gavin let out another tortured scream and Ryan _laughed_ , though there was no humour in it. Just something petty and cruel.

“It hurts,” he called out. “Doesn't it?”

Gavin groaned, and up on the platform Ray saw him curl in on himself, wracked with tremors. Beside him, Michael jerked, his hand falling from where it'd still been clutching Ray's arm.

“Shit,” he whispered. He looked upset too, tensing with every cry Gavin let out.

Ray hadn't realised just how close they were standing. Michael had been trying to wrestle his bow from him, and a sudden annoyance struck him once again.

_The fuck did you stop me for,_ he couldn't help thinking – _I wasn't going to kill him. An arrow to the arm and he'd've dropped the crown – we might still have taken it._

Well, it was too late now, he thought bitterly. He might've lost them the games, but it was Michael who had lost them the crown.

The other man barely noticed the glare Ray shot him. His eyes were fixed on Gavin, and Ryan laughed again.

“Magic being forced into every inch of you,” he continued. “Body and mind. Humans aren't made for it. Isn't it agony? No gift comes free, you should know that by now.”

“Geoff,” Dan was pleading, horrified by Ryan's words. “Geoff, can't you do something-”

Geoff just shook his head, faced grimly away, refusing to watch. One hand was pressed to his heart, like it had been an _ache_ more than anything to feel Gavin become one of them.

“It can kill people, sometimes,” Ryan added, viciously. “One of my line died years ago – granted, he was terribly old, but when he tried to take the crown before my grandmother could, it gave him a heart attack on the spot. He just couldn't deal with the pain. At least we,” he gestured between the other kings, “Were prepared for it. A bit of a rude shock it must've been for _you_ , thief.”

Gavin's back arched, another choking cry tearing from him. Even Ray felt faintly sympathetic; he remembered his own coronation. The searing pain, like every nerve was being stripped out of his body and being replaced by something new, foreign, _electric_ , burning him from the inside out.

“I tried to warn you,” Jack called, helplessly. His face was twisting, fists clenching at his sides. Geoff still refused to look, covering his face now and turning away – even Dan standing frozen, horrified and helpless.

At Jack's words, Gavin lifted his head a little, turning towards them. His eyes were blazing an inhuman green, and there were tears streaked down his face – but there was something defiant in the way his lips drew back, his teeth bared at them in a mocking grin.

“Will it kill him?” Dan demanded, apparently rather paranoid after Ryan's not-so-happy anecdote.

“He is young and strong. Probably not,” Ryan replied, but tilted his head curiously. “But let's wait and see.”

“Fuck you, Ryan,” Geoff snarled suddenly. He lunged at the other man, drawing his sword – Ryan's own weapon went up in an instant, blocking the blow inches from his neck. He thrust Geoff backwards and the other man stumbled, growling-

But before their fight could continue, Gavin suddenly struggled to his knees up on the platform, and both of them turned to look at him as he raised himself upright. He was a fighter, Ray had to give him that – he drew himself up straight and with a final, ragged cry, threw his head back. He seemed to suck the rest of the light into himself, before falling forward onto his hands and knees. The clearing fell into a dead silence except for his heavy, ragged breathing.

The crown was shining brightly still, a ghostly green light that seemed to illuminate the whole clearing in an eerie glow.

And Ray could feel Gavin.

Could feel his _life_ , suddenly, intrinsically connected to Ray's own somehow. Like their hearts were stitched together and he could sense how the other man's was pounding, bird-fast – how he was still tingling all over and his blood surging with the lingering energy of the gift – even the aches and pains from what must've been his fight with the beast, dull after the fresh agony of putting on the crown. He felt like they were half the same person, like Gavin's mind and _life_ were all pressed up against his own, so intense it nearly felt physical.

He knew it would fade away after a while. It was always freshest at the start – he'd felt Michael for a whole week after the other man was crowned, and oh, he'd _clung_ to it, being able to feel _everything_ the other man was doing, every sensation, pleasure and pain – even the heavy weight of grief in Michael's chest from the death of his father. He'd felt like he was helping somehow, by carrying it too. It felt like the most intimate they'd ever been.

Within a few weeks, it would disappear. Just a faint, secure _fullness_ remaining. The knowledge that Gavin was still alive and well – he'd only feel if the other man got seriously hurt or died.

He could tell the others all felt it too – Ryan had his jaw clenched tightly, standing upright and very still, something strained in his face. Like he _despised_ it and wanted nothing more than to force every wisp of Gavin's consciousness out of his mind. Geoff's arms were wrapped around himself, hugging tightly – _now_ he looked up at Gavin, eyes wide and red-rimmed. Beside Ray, Michael was breathing heavily, and unconsciously all of them had fallen in line with the rhythm of Gavin's own ragged pants.

It was Dan who broke the silence.

“B?” he called out, tentatively.

“Gavin, are you okay?” Jack asked, at nearly the same time.

Gavin didn't lift his head. Dan made a desperate noise and began searching for a way up to him, but before he could find one a rustling in the jungle had them all spinning around, hands going to their weapons. The sound was only getting louder – and louder, and _louder_ , more and more shuffling footsteps and snapping twigs until it felt _deafening_ , like a parade – the rattle of bones moving and a horrible _warping_ noise that Ray had never heard in his life before, but that sounded so unnatural it chilled him to the marrow.

He found out what it was a second later when an Enderman appeared in a flash of purple light, right in front of them.

“Shit!” Michael cried, and slashed at it with his sword – it disappeared, the blade cutting through nothing but air, and a moment later the Enderman reappeared on the other side of the clearing.

Ray fitted another arrow to his bow, but couldn't decide where to aim as suddenly, zombie after zombie emerged from the trees – then draugr, appearing in masses, their rattling footsteps echoing through the glade. It was a horrifying sight, row upon row of white skulls and decaying flesh.

The creepers came next, so silent and nearly invisible with their pelts blending into the trees that it seemed as though they appeared out of nowhere – it looked like the trees were moving towards them and it was only when Ray focused that he noticed the individual faces and shapes of the beasts.

"Holy hell,” Michael breathed next to him – Jeremy was swearing too, under his breath, sword raised, but no one wanted to attack and provoke the mobs. The creatures' faces were all tilted back, staring up at Gavin.

“Fuck,” Geoff said, “Fuck, fuck – back up, everyone!”

They retreated against the cliff face, weapons raised, forming a defensive line of sorts – a shudder ran down Ray's spine as more Endermen warped into the clearing.

Every single mob in the Wild seemed to be congregating here. There were so fucking _many_ of them, more and more emerging from the trees, crammed so tightly together that their bodies were jostling for space. They surrounded the group, the low moans of the zombies blending together in some awful chorus. The Endermen were the worst – so tall that they towered above everyone else, their spindly long legs and black bodies silhouetted against the moon and the night sky.

“Oh, Gods,” Ray found himself saying – he glanced over at Ryan to find that the other man looked afraid. He wasn't even hiding it, staring around at the mobs with open horror. Even Ray felt true, piercing fear for one of the first times in his life. There were just so _many_ of them. He didn't even know where to aim.

Geoff had pushed Jack behind him, but he looked frantic as he glanced around for any opening they might run through, and found none.

“Shit, _shit_ ,” he hissed, summing up what all of them were basically thinking.

“They won't hurt you,” Gavin choked out above them, and his voice was ragged with pain but somehow still perfectly audible, seeming to echo with power throughout the space. The mobs all fell silent, and went very still.

The kings and their men had frozen, craning their necks and twisting around to look at Gavin. Up on the platform, he was stumbling to his feet – he staggered when he got upright, his face haggard and streaked with blood and tears, but there was raw, almost innocent awe in the way he stared out at the crowds of mobs. Ray remembered the feeling – the buzzing of magic in your veins, so _new_. It made you feel light, like you were floating. He remembered the first roses that had blossomed around him even as he stood at his parents' graves, filling the air with a thick perfume – remembered that first joy of _creating_.

Gavin swayed, one hand holding his injured side, but there was a funny, powerful certainty in his voice when he spoke again.

“They are here,” he declared, “For my coronation.”

“Gods,” Michael whispered next to him; his gaze was fixed on the monsters too. Ray looked out over them; the crowds and crowds of beings. It was a mockery of the ceremonies all of them had held back in their kingdoms when they were first crowned. Celebrations and rich bright colours and fistfuls of petals thrown into the air – and here, the inverse; ghostly moonlight and hordes of the dead. Silence.

“I can see it,” Gavin continued, and laughed abruptly. “I can see in all their minds. Everything! They are here to witness me. Oh, they're simple creatures. So fixed on one thought. The zombies just want to eat, poor things. Forever starving. The draugr are full of hate-”

He gasped, suddenly, his gaze turning to the Endermen. “Oh, Ryan, they want _you_.”

They all glanced over at Ryan, whose face had turned drawn and angry. He raised his sword, stepping forward challengingly towards the Endermen who stood in a towering line, amethyst eyes fixed directly on him.

“They won't hurt you,” Gavin said, before Ryan could make a proper move. “I won't let them. They will listen to _me_.”

Ryan's jaw was clenched. He was refusing to look up at Gavin, even as the other man lifted his hands and the Endermen took three uniform steps back and then turned to face away from Ryan.

“Who is the god now?” Gavin cried, and when Ryan clenched his jaw and moved back over to the others, there was such a hateful resentment in his eyes that it took Ray aback.

“Gavin,” Jack began, but Gavin wasn't listening. He was pacing along the platform, staring at his subjects – _experimenting_ , Ray realised. He'd done the same when he received his gift. It was like the opening of an entire new sense, or an extra limb, there was so much you could suddenly do, and so _easily_ , that you hadn't been able to before.

Gavin lifted a hand, pointing at one of the creepers, and it slowly spun around in a circle. He barked out a delighted laugh and gestured to one of the zombies, next – it shuffled forward to stand right in front of the other kings. With sweeping gestures Gavin motioned for it to lie down on the ground, and then lift itself up into a handstand. It swayed, but remained balanced, just as he'd ordered it to.

“Anything,” he breathed, and stared down at his hands. There was a moment of silence as they stared at him, apprehensive – something uneasy coiling in Ray's stomach, still half-expecting the monsters to attack them at any moment – then Gavin shot a hand out towards the draugr. One of them turned, seized the head of the one next to it in its hands, and ripped the skull right off its body, the rest of it crumpling to the ground in a pile of bones.

“Holy fuck!” Michael exclaimed – Matt and Jeremy had let out startled yells in unison.

With a sweep of his hand, Gavin had the draugr pull two more skulls off its fellows. Then it strode right in front of them, next to the handstanding zombie, and began to juggle them.

“I am in all of them,” Gavin cried, and Ray didn't quite understand the words, but they terrified him anyway. Gavin brought one of the creepers over next, and had it start spinning again, methodically turning in place, like a ballerina. And finally, an Enderman, striding over only to begin to dance – its long arms stretched up towards the moon, its enormous, thin legs rising to its chest one at a time in a funny stamping motion as it swayed from side to side.

“Music,” Gavin said excitedly. “We need music.”

“We do not fucking need music,” Geoff replied, sounding very strained, but Gavin was already flinging a hand out towards the draugr. Half of them begin to beat their fists against their hollow ribcages, the dull striking creating a ringing drumbeat. The others clapped their bony hands together, a clattering addition to the percussion. He gestured to the Endermen and they started up a low hum that made something tingle unbearably at the very back of Ray's skull. The zombies were next – stamping their feet and letting out a chorus of moans of varying pitches, creating a harmony that was at once discordant and haunting.

Gavin pointed at the creepers, and all of them began to spin. It was dizzying to look at that shifting mass of green and black.

And the mobs before them continued to stamp, and juggle, and sway. Ray felt like he was trapped in a dream – a nightmare, rather – watching this macabre circus. Of the dead and the monstrous, dancing in front of them – corpses making merry. The song was abhorrent. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget it.

The others were watching this grotesque scene in similar horror. Michael in particular looked very pained, something almost sad in his eyes as he glanced up at Gavin – whose hands flew about like a mad conductor, the puppeteer of this whole spectacle. Ray reached out and squeezed his hand, unable to help himself, and while Michael didn't look over at him, he clutched his fingers back, desperately.

“Gavin,” Geoff choked out finally. “Gavin, _stop_ , what the fuck are you doing? This is horrible.”

“It's pretty fucking disturbing,” Jack agreed, shooting Gavin a desperate glance.

Gavin threw up his hands and the music stopped so abruptly that Ray felt a bit dizzy at the sudden silence.

“Isn't this what you all want from your fool?” he shouted, and Geoff flinched, Jack closed his eyes, pained - “A _show_. Are you not _entertained_?”

He leaped down from the platform in a series of nimble jumps – some path down the rocky cliffside that none of them could have found, especially in the dark – and was standing on the ground beside them before they could blink. Jack reached towards him, but Gavin was already striding over to the performing mobs.

“What else should I do with them if not make them dance?” he asked, and reached out, catching one of the skulls that the draugr was juggling mid-toss. The mob didn't falter in its movements, just adjusted to continue what it was doing. Gavin lifted the skull up and examined it in the light still glowing from his crown.

“What are they for?” he repeated, and turned towards the kings, challengingly. “Would you prefer I made an army?”

Ryan let out a low hiss, barely audible – Ray had stiffened, bow rising, but the others still stood in a miserable silence, staring at Gavin like he was a stranger. Perhaps he was. Ray could see nothing of the graceless fool in the man who stood before him now. It was terrifying, just how much they'd all managed to underestimate him.

Gavin scoffed. He threw the skull at their feet and turned away, walking over to the crowd of mobs that stood watching them all in silence. He reached out a hand and gently touched one of the draugr, stroking the bones of its face curiously. But it was the creepers that he turned to next – held up a piece of his scarf and examined it next to the creature before reaching out and petting it, softly. He turned back to them and spread his arms out, and somehow he fit right in with the rest of these feral creatures.

“So here is your Wild king!” he cried, and Geoff let out an angry choking noise. Ray couldn't even fathom what must be going through his head; it was bad enough for him seeing someone sweep in and steal the crown. Geoff had known Gavin for years, had _trusted_ him. From here he couldn't see Jack, but the other man was very silent.

For a moment everyone stared at Gavin. Angry, and miserable, and _shocked_.

Then Dan stepped forward, heedless of the mobs around him. Gavin stared up at him, something in his demeanour softening as his friend approached – his eyes went wide as Dan came right up to him, something tense in it, like he was expecting an outburst, or reproach-

But Dan paused right in front of him, stared into his eyes for a moment – and then got down on one knee and bowed his head.

“My liege,” he said, voice choked, and Gavin lifted up a shaking hand, pressing it against his mouth for a moment. The demeanour cracked; he looked human again – looked _upset_ – when he lowered his hand, he was smiling, but Ray could see the emotion in his eyes, in the tremble of his hand as he placed it on Dan's shoulder.

“B,” he whispered. “My loyal Dan. You don't ever need to bow to me.”

He drew Dan up and pulled him into a sudden embrace, burrowing into his chest in a moment of abrupt vulnerability. Dan seemed surprised, but hugged him back, tightly at first – pulling back when Gavin winced, his hands running over him in concern, tutting at his injuries.

“You really killed the beast,” he breathed, and Gavin nodded.

“I could do it, Dan,” he murmured, and there was something childlike in it, seeking approval. “I lopped its bloody head right off!”

Dan huffed out a laugh, brushing some of Gavin's hair back before making an attempt to adjust the crown on his head. He hissed a bit, flinching back when he touched it, and the two of them exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“It zapped me,” Dan informed him indignantly, and Gavin laughed his squeaky laugh.

The sight of the two of them giggling together was pretty fucking _bizarre_ given that they were surrounded by a circus of mobs, with four other kings staring at them. After a moment, Jack shook himself. He started forward, reaching out for Gavin as well, but Geoff reached forward and grabbed his arm, yanking him back almost viciously.

“Geoff?” Jack asked, and it drew Gavin's attention. Dan stepped aside, moving to flank him as he met Geoff's eyes. The plains king's head was lowered, and when he looked up Ray was taken aback by the coldness on his face. It rivalled Ryan's anger, something dark and lurking about it, all the more terrifying for its calmness.

“Dan,” Geoff said. “Did you know about this?”

Dan blinked a few times, looking confused. He glanced at Gavin as though for help, then stared back at Geoff.

“I... about what?”

“About _him_ ,” Geoff spat, a finger flying out to point at Gavin. “Planning to fucking come here and steal the crown before any of us. In on it, were you? Covering for him this morning?”

“What? No!” Dan squawked, and Gavin stepped in front of him defensively.

“Dan had nothing to do with this,” he said, and lifted his chin. “I did this on my own. The same way I've always done _everything_ on my own.”

“That's not _true_ ,” Geoff snapped. “Have you fucking forgotten everything I've done for you? I took you in, I-”

“And what about what I've done for you?” Gavin shouted back. “I've spied for you! I've given you company! I gave you _life_ , Geoff, a life you didn't have before me, access to a world you _never_ saw. A place where you weren't a king and it didn't _matter_. I guess you had to choose,” he said bitterly, “Between that life, with _me_ , and the life of a king.”

“It's called _duty_ ,” Geoff hissed, fists clenching. “And it's why we didn't want some useless fool taking the crown! Because they have no fucking _sense_ of it!”

Gavin glared at him, and Geoff glared right back – both of them were shaking hard, obviously horribly upset, but it was anger that fired up over the surface.

“Do you realise what you've done?” Geoff demanded. “You've betrayed your king, your country-”

“The plains are not my country,” Gavin cut in coldly, and Geoff's mouth snapped shut. There was something almost hesitant in Gavin's voice as he continued, “I think maybe I always knew that. But this... this confirmed it.” He clutched at his scarf with both hands, shaking it a little, and when he spoke again his voice was firmer, more assured.

“I do not belong there,” he replied. “And I do not belong to you.”

Geoff stared at him for a long moment.

“You sicken me,” he said finally. And then, “I loved you.”

Gavin flinched. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and in the silence Ray heard Jack suck in a long, sad, shuddering breath.

“You say that now,” Gavin replied, voice very flat. “When you want to win me over.”

“No, Gavin,” Geoff replied, equally coldly. “I _loved_ you. Past fucking tense – oh, of course, you didn't go to _school_ , you probably don't know the difference!”

A look of shock, then hurt, then pure _rage_ flitted over Gavin's face. He opened his mouth, but Geoff barrelled on before he could say anything.

“You schemed this,” he said, and there was the sting of betrayal in his voice now. “You had to have been planning this. Putting the pieces in place. _Choosing_ to turn on us _all_. You have wounded all of us, _all of us_ ,” he gesticulated furiously towards Matt, Michael, Ray - “In ways you can't possibly imagine. The consequences of this go beyond you and the family you're looking for – who are probably dead anyway!”

The look on Gavin's face was enough to make even Ray's heart sink. There were words you couldn't put back in your mouth, he thought grimly, words that irredeemably changed your relationship with others – he knew that firsthand. And Geoff had clearly crossed that line.

Jack had gasped as well.

“Stop,” he begged, tugging at Geoff's sleeve. “Geoff, _stop_.”

“You _chose_ to cut us off,” Geoff continued, ignoring him. “Do you realise that, Gavin? You're the one who's _ruined_ things here, ruined everything we _had_ -” His voice cracked as he finally glanced at Jack, gesturing between the three of them. “ _Everything_ , I... I can't forgive you for that.”

“Don't get on your fucking high horse,” Gavin shot back, “When you haven't done anything but take, and take, and _take_ from me and make me feel like _shit_ when I tried to help you! I wasn't lying to Ryan,” he added, his eyes fixed furiously on Geoff's. “I also loved you. Past bloody tense, Geoffrey.”

Jack jerked as if struck. Even Geoff took a step back, face twisting as he struggled not to break down, as he forced himself to try and remain _angry_ to avoid revealing anything else. The others watched in voyeuristic horror, unwilling to step in.

_Fucking hell,_ was all Ray could think. _They're breaking up right in front of us!_

Geoff took a deep, steadying breath. When he turned back to Gavin his face was icy.

“What's your plan then?” he demanded. “What are you gonna do? Run off into the jungle and live with the animals? Since you apparently _belong here.”_

“I'll figure it out,” Gavin replied. “I'm used to being on my own.”

Jack was crying. It took Ray a moment to realise, but his shoulders were trembling and he was breathing too fast, hitching now and then, and there must be so much he wanted – _needed_ – to say, but couldn't get out. Geoff looked on the verge of tears too – even Gavin's eyes were red and his face flushed – but both of them were steadfastly refusing to let any proper emotion show.

And Ryan – Ryan was watching Jack, with a lingering little frown on his face, something softer than his usual glares and sneers.

“Then don't bother coming back,” Geoff said finally. His voice was hoarse by now, and Gavin just stared at him as he turned away. “We're leaving, all of us. Dan, Matt! It's time to go home.”

He began to stride out of the clearing. Matt hesitated, then followed him. Jack didn't move – and Dan didn't, either. It was him who Geoff fixed on, turning back towards Gavin and scowling at Dan, who still hovered behind him.

“You will stay with him?” he demanded.

Dan looked torn.

“Your majesty,” he began. “ _Geoff_... don't do this. You know you don't want to.”

Geoff just stared coldly at him, arms folded. Gavin turned towards Dan and squeezed his friend's arm.

“Choose what you like, Dan,” he said softly. “I won't hold it against you if you want to go home.”

Dan bit his lip. But after a moment, he shook his head and stepped closer to Gavin. Geoff looked furious.

“You would side with a thief and a traitor over your king?” he demanded. “You realise that's treason.”

For a moment Dan was very quiet. Then he took a deep breath, and shook his head again.

“You've always been kind to me, King Geoff,” he said. “But he's my brother and my friend. I can't leave him alone.”

Gavin closed his eyes for a long moment. Despite his bold words about getting by on his own, he looked relieved, and pressed Dan's arm again.

“Thank you,” Jack piped up suddenly, and Dan met his eyes and gave a small nod.

Geoff was still fuming.

“Okay then,” he replied. “Then don't fucking come back. If I see either of you in the plains again, you'll be detained. By royal decree you are both banished.”

Matt gasped – Jack turned to Geoff, aghast – even Michael sucked in a breath and muttered, “Fuck.”

Ray stood feeling sick to watch these friendships, _relationships_ , fall apart in front of him so easily. It was obvious that Geoff was furious, and _hurt_ , and saying things he didn't mean. But when you had power, you had to be careful not to act in anger. There were things you couldn't take back.

Dan had flinched, but Gavin lifted his chin angrily.

“I banish you right back!” he cried, but under his haughty defiance his eyes were burning. “Leave the Wild. Don't ever try and return here.”

“I don't _want_ to,” Geoff sneered.

He strode up to them – Gavin tensed, and some of the draugr behind him stepped forward – but Geoff just went up to Dan and ripped the clasp with the plains insignia on it from his cloak.

“For crimes against the crown and kingdom, you're stripped of your rank,” he snapped.

Dan looked pained, but Gavin turned to him and pushed at his shoulder.

“Dan, kneel down,” he said – Dan did so automatically, and Gavin lifted the diamond sword he was still holding and tapped it gently against each of his shoulders. “I knight you again immediately. By _my_ royal decree, you are now Sir Gruchy of the Wild kingdom.”

“Witnessed by who,” Geoff sneered, and Gavin turned to him with a scowl. There was something almost childish in both of them, pulling faces and overriding each other's orders.

“I make the rules in my kingdom,” Gavin said. “Witnessed by _me,_ and all my subjects.”

He raised a hand and all the mobs around them broke into ghastly applause.

“They're not alive,” Ray couldn't help piping up. “You realise that, right? They're not properly... they're like animals.”

“I didn't ask for your opinion,” Gavin informed him.

Matt looked upset by everything that was going on. But when Geoff turned and beckoned to him, he followed, hesitantly picking his way past the mobs to the edge of the clearing.

“We're going,” Geoff informed everybody. Only Matt followed – the mobs stood, their heads turning to watch them go, but making no move. There was no fear of them being attacked now, not with every creature in the jungle under Gavin's control.

Gavin turned away as Geoff stormed out, his arms folded. Neither of them looked back at each other – just kept their chins lifted, resolutely refusing to be the first to crack. It was a show – a good one – but Ray knew masks.

“Geoff, don't leave,” Jack called out, but the other man was already shoving through the hordes of mobs to get out of the clearing. Gavin didn't bother making them step out of the way, they just rocked numbly aside as Geoff pushed through them. “Geoff, _no_!”

“He won't listen to you, Jack,” Gavin said wearily. Geoff disappeared into the trees, Matt glancing worriedly over his shoulder before following. Once he was gone, Gavin turned back to Jack, and his face fell a little at the sight of the other man.

“Gavin... why?” Jack pleaded.

He sounded so sad that it made a lump rise in Ray's own throat. Gavin looked miserable, that dramatic act that he'd been keeping up since he took the crown faltering away. Suddenly he just looked tired, and beaten down.

“You made me,” he whispered, and Ryan jolted at the words, but said nothing.

Jack just stared at him helplessly, and Gavin turned away, pacing, arms wrapped around himself.

“What the hell does he think I can do?” he cried. “What, did he want me to give him the crown? The others would all have turned on him! He didn't win the games, so if I'd stolen it and given it to him, it would have been cheating!”

“You're right,” Ryan cut in suddenly, darkly. “If Geoff had accepted that crown from you I would have declared war on the plains immediately.”

“Exactly,” Gavin said. “But now... now you _all_ have to go back and tell your people that the crown was stolen by a fool. No one gets singled out and embarrassed. Everyone is a loser here. And at least it's a fool who won't attack the plains. Geoff was never going to win this crown, Jack. I didn't do this for him – but he's acting like it's my fault he didn't win. It's not. I was trying to _help_ him, until he pushed me away. But now I have the power to help _myself_. So really – really _no one_ loses, do they? You all _wanted_ the crown, but no one ever had a right to it. You think I don't understand what happens in your royal courts? I understand more than you think. I just play by my own rules.”

Jack just shook his head slowly.

“Please don't do this,” he whispered. “Come back with us. It can be how it was-”

“It can never be how it was,” Gavin said, and sounded exhausted.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, gathering himself for a moment.

“I can't leave you behind here, Gavin,” he said finally, voice breaking a little. “I can't... I can't just _leave_ you here.”

Gavin's face crumpled for a moment before he wrestled it back under control.

“I'm not alone,” he replied. “I have Dan. I... I'll be okay, Jack, but... I need to do this and find my family and... I already made this choice. I can't take it back now.”

Jack pressed his lips together, turning away. Gavin hesitated, then walked up to him, reaching out and touching his arm lightly.

“Geoff needs you,” he whispered. “He needs you more than I do right now. You have to go back and take care of him. Especially with all the turmoil in the plains. If those barons cause too much trouble, you can let them know the Wild king will be on your side.”

Jack just shook his head again.

“After... after you find out about your family, you'll come back?” he asked. There was something childishly hopeful in it. “Geoff is angry right now but he'll regret it later, he always does... you can come back. You will, won't you?”

Gavin looked like he was about to cry too.

“I need to stay here for now,” he replied, and when Jack let out a noise too close to a sob, he repeated, more firmly, “For _now_.”

He pulled Jack into a hug and the other man clung to him, holding onto him desperately. Gavin squeezed him back and Ray could see them both shaking. It lasted a long moment, Jack's face buried in Gavin's shoulder, Gavin's hand stroking down his back – even when they pulled apart, Jack still held Gavin close, staring into his eyes.

“I love you,” he choked out, and Gavin let out a distressed noise. “I'm sorry I never said it sooner. I'm sorry you didn't know. I should have... _we_ should have made it clearer, I never thought you... I never thought you didn't see it-”

“Please don't, Jack,” Gavin whispered, eyes squeezed shut. “Not now. Not _now_ , you can't... please don't tell me now. It's too late. Please go and be with Geoff, I... I can't take it if we start thinking about _what-ifs_. You can't make me regret this, it's just... it's too late. _Please_.”

Jack seemed to understand. He pulled Gavin into another fierce hug.

Ray felt ill. Even if he'd only met these people a few days ago, even if he was entirely uninvolved – it made something ache deep inside him to see what had happened. And it made him _afraid_ , suddenly, to see just how easily, how _quickly_ , things could fall apart between people who had been right on the verge of a relationship.

He'd tried to warn Jack that leaving everything unspoken was a bad idea. But he took no satisfaction in seeing the consequences, now, of the other man not listening to him.

When they broke apart Jack's hand went up behind Gavin's neck and he pressed their foreheads together for a long moment, heedless of how the thorns on the crown must be digging into his own skin. Finally, breathing heavily, he turned and walked out of the clearing quickly, deliberately saying nothing else, deliberately not looking back – like if he didn't get out of there as fast as he could, he'd never be able to bring himself to leave.

 

* * *

 

Michael had thought he knew Gavin.

He'd thought he'd met someone, someone he'd never seen anyone like in his life, and been allowed a glimpse into his funny, bright little world – he'd _liked_ him, had wanted more of him, wanted to get close and be _friends_ and invite him to his kingdom and find out even more about who he was. Wanted to help him solve the mystery of his family, putting together the pieces of that puzzle that was so important.

But the man he'd seen take the crown, the man who'd conducted that horrible dance of monsters, was not the sunny, happy fool he had longed for. It was someone darker, and angrier, and far more dangerous. Someone who seemed just as feral as the mobs around him.

Watching Gavin standing with his shoulders slumped, watching Jack leave, upset him. It reminded him of Gavin's sadness when he'd spoken about his parents. In that respect, he understood why he'd taken the crown. And some part of him could see Gavin's point. The games had been Ryan's construction, but they weren't law, not in the Wild. The crown was there for anyone to take.

But the betrayal.

The idea that Gavin had lied to him, had _used_ him – had played on Michael's sympathy for him in order to put him in a position where he could easily steal his sword – that hurt. That made him feel a burning humiliation at how he had laughed with Gavin, smiled with Gavin – hugged him and told him everything would be okay – only to be turned on. Only for none of it to be _real_.

It must be ten times worse for Geoff and Jack. But Michael – Michael had opened up to Gavin, tried to _befriend_ him, and to have that thrown in his face was like a slap. He wasn't even angry, just _hurt_.

Gavin looked up and met his eyes, and then held out the sword.

“Michael,” he said quietly. “This is yours.”

Michael shook himself. He stepped away from Ray and up towards Gavin. As he got closer he could see the dark bruises on the other man's face – the grime and blood that was caked into his clothes, along with that black sooty substance that he claimed had come from the beast. He smelt like cinders and ash, and Michael could feel just how much energy was still coursing through him from the gift.

“You're fucking right it's mine,” he muttered, and snatched the sword back. It sent a tingle down his spine to be so close to the mobs – there was a draugr standing right beside him, and he turned and looked at it. Its fleshless face staring back at him, the teeth of the skull seeming to grin, was horrifying.

He turned back to Gavin to find the other man watching him. His green eyes still glowed faintly from the power of the crown, and Michael hated how unfamiliar Gavin suddenly was to him. He had no idea what he was thinking.

“You killed the beast,” he said finally, and Gavin nodded.

“I cut its head off.”

“What was it?”

“I have no idea, but it was huge. It didn't bleed. It was nothing from this earth, or at least nothing I'd ever seen or heard of. It was wearing the crown. It was like a bull, but with hands.” He clenched his fists and mimed a few punches. “The only reason I survived was because I was able to dodge most of its attacks."

“I bet I could have killed it,” Michael muttered, and Gavin looked away. Michael sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Gavin, I _trusted_ you. And you... you turned on us, you were lying this whole time-”

“I wasn't lying about everything,” Gavin replied, quietly. “You were kind to me, Michael. I did appreciate that. I just... it's hard to explain. Things built up. I had to do it – I _wanted_ to do it. I don't regret that I did, not when it's given me the chance to find my parents. Not when now I finally have everything I need to properly investigate. I never wanted to hurt you but I... I barely know you, Michael. I met you less than a week ago.”

“Right,” Michael scoffed, and Gavin looked pained. He reached out, but Michael shook him off, stepping back.

“Deception isn't something I easily understand,” he snapped. “This whole _stupid_ thing... you, Ryan,” he added, throwing the other king a glance, “Your fucking mind games, the way you've been messing with Geoff... all of that is just... it's fucking stupid. A fight should be a fight. If you have a problem with someone, you fucking tell them. Lying... _secrets_ ,” he added, and caught Ray's flinch in his peripheral, but couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for it, not after the archery, “That's not noble. That's not fucking honourable. Just... everyone here is operating in a world that I don't understand. That I don't _want_ to be a part of. So enjoy your crown, Gavin. Enjoy your _power_ – I don't care if that wasn't what it was about, it's what you _have now_ , whether you wanted it or not. I thought that I liked you a lot, but I guess you're right. I never did know you.”

Gavin looked away, jaw clenched tightly. Michael sighed again, rubbing at his temples.

“And like I told you. With power comes responsibility. You are a king with no subjects, no experience...”

“I'm good at making things work out for me,” Gavin muttered, and Michael dropped his hand from his face.

“Apparently,” he said.

There was a tense silence. Gavin seemed uncomfortable suddenly – like Michael had chastised him, even if Geoff couldn't.

_Geoff_.

That had been hard to watch. It was obvious that the relationship between them had been breaking down for some time, but that final _split_ – how _angry_ Geoff had been – it had been terrible. Michael knew that they'd both regret it later. Losing someone so close to you was a shock that it was hard to recover from. He didn't know how he'd've felt if it'd been himself and Ray.

_It might be us soon, given everything that's happened so far,_ he realised uncomfortably. He was still angry with Ray about the archery, now that it'd sunk in that he'd done it deliberately – and he knew Ray was still angry with him – he didn't know what to do. What was going to happen.

Everything was falling apart.

He realised he was staring in the direction that Geoff and Jack had gone, and Gavin noticed too. His face clouded over when Michael turned back to him.

“Geoff,” Michael said, and Gavin scowled. “I hope you can see how much you hurt him.”

“He hurt me a lot too,” Gavin replied stubbornly – at Michael's unimpressed look, something more genuinely hurt crossed his face. Something far too vulnerable. “A _lot_ , Michael. My whole life I've just had... no one, no parents, no friends... Who do I _know_ loves me? Dan, I suppose,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at his friend, who smiled faintly. “But for... for something like that... you have to say it. And _he didn't_ , no matter what he says _now_. I just... I've committed to this. All I can do now is make all this worth it by finding out about my family. Because I do _need_ to, Michael, I just... I can't stand not knowing any more. I need to find out where I came from. And now, with this, I can.”

He gestured to the crown, and Michael bit his lip.

“I would've helped you,” he said softly.

“Yes, but Michael, it's not the same.” He reached out and touched Michael's arm and this time Michael couldn't bring himself to pull back. “Asking you for help all the time? Asking Geoff, asking Ryan? There's no agency there. I don't want to always be relying on other people's generosity.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Gavin added, “You don't need two powers.”

There was something gently chastising in it, and Michael looked away. Gavin's hand slipped from his arm and he looked over at Ray.

“Good luck,” he said. “It will all be fine.”

“I don't think it will,” Michael murmured, quietly enough that only Gavin could hear it. He thought of Ray, and how everything had changed so suddenly between them – Ryan and the army that he was sure Gavin hadn't been lying about – Geoff and Jack's new pain. “Everything is changing. Nothing will be the same again.” He swallowed, hard, and added, “I think I finally found something I'm scared of.”

“We'll be fine,” Gavin repeated, but more uncertainly.

Michael shook his head. “Things feel wrong,” he muttered. “I can't explain how, just... sometimes before a disaster, all the birds fly away. The animals disappear. Everything goes silent. You know there's a danger coming. Still... I suppose there's nothing we can do but weather it.”

Gavin pressed his lips together and said nothing. Michael hefted his sword in his hand, and ran his thumb over where the diamond blade was slightly blackened. It didn't come off, and he frowned a bit. That had never happened before. The sword was enchanted that it should always stay in perfect condition. He'd never seen it marred before.

He shook it off, deciding to look more into it later.

“I suppose I won't see you again,” he said, looking up at Gavin, who just stared back at him sadly and tilted his head.

“You need to go home now,” he replied. “You and Ray. Your kingdoms can work together. I'm not stupid, Michael, I remember what you told me. I'll look for my parents – but I'll also try and get the Wild under control. I won't let another bandit take the crown. There's going to be trouble in the plains. We might see each other sooner than we think.”

That only made Michael seem even more uneasy. The notion of war was not unfamiliar to his kingdom, but one between two of the major lands was something that hadn't happened in his lifetime, or even his father's. He hoped that wasn't what Gavin was implying. Still – he nodded, and turned away. He couldn't bring himself to hate Gavin, no matter what he'd done. All he felt now was tired and rather sad.

“Come on then, Jeremy – Ray,” he said, and the two men glanced at Gavin one more time before turning to follow Michael out of the clearing in silence.

The mobs shifted out of the way as they left – heading around the cliff, rather than trying to go back through the ravine. Michael knew where he was going, and they walked in silence. As they left the clearing behind – and Ryan still standing there, staring at Gavin – he couldn't help feeling a funny sort of melancholy. The jungle was very silent around them, and knowing that every mob was behind them, with Gavin, it felt suddenly quite lonely.

They walked for a long time – himself in the lead, Ray trailing behind him and Jeremy bringing up the rear and keeping a lookout just in case some other danger arose. It was only when they reached the river again that Ray cleared his throat.

“Well, fuck,” he declared, first of all.

Michael glanced over at him. Ray's face was hard to read; he wasn't as closed off as he'd been during the tournament, but there was still a vague annoyance in his bearing.

“You can say that again,” Michael replied, and Ray sighed.

“Can't fucking believe Gavin has the crown now. All that weird shit he said to me before the archery, when we were watching the storm... I should've known this would happen. He was clearly planning something, being all ominous and shit. I just didn't see it until now. But he was acting pretty fucking weird.”

“So are you,” Michael blurted out before he could stop himself, and Ray stiffened. They both stopped walking, turning to look at each other – Ray was already going on the defensive, Michael could tell, and his own anger rose back up, his irritation at Gavin's betrayal twisting into fury over what was starting to seem a hell of a lot like a betrayal from _Ray_ as well.

“What the fuck happened back there, Ray? We were meant to work together to place first in the games. You're not stupid. You must've known that if you'd thrown that last shot we'd've won. Then at least we'd have a _claim_ to the crown.”

Ray bit his lip, then scowled.

“You want the fucking crown, why did you stop me shooting him?” he demanded, his voice cutting.

“I wasn't about to let you _shoot_ him, gods! You can't just-”

“I wasn't going to _kill him_ , Michael,” Ray snapped. “You've already _seen_ that I know how to aim. I would've shot him in the arm, or the shoulder – not even injured him badly. Just enough to make him drop the damn thing!”

“Oh my fucking gods,” Michael said. “Ryan was talking about being ruthless; _you're_ the fucking ruthless one! What the hell is going on with you, Ray? You're being a real asshole today. You can't know you wouldn't have injured him permanently. You can't _know_ – what if he'd moved and you missed?”

“What the fuck do you care?” Ray shot back. He stepped closer to Michael, fists clenching. A tremor in his voice as he spat, “You told me you aren't interested in him. He betrayed you – he _lied_ to you – you like him so much, but he never liked you, he was just fucking _pretending_! And here you are, still defending him!”

The anger rose up in a hot wave. Michael got up in Ray's face as well.

“Fucking _listen_ to yourself,” he shouted. “You don't need to fucking project! Just because _you're_ in love with me and I'm not-”

He broke off when Ray went pale and took a step back. Both of them were breathing heavily, and after their yelling the silence in the empty Wild seemed to ring in their ears.

It had been a very, very bad day.

They'd both lost people. The dead soldier was still on Michael's mind, and he knew Ray's own casualties must be on his. It had been so fucking stressful and it had their tensions high. He knew that he wouldn't normally be this angry – so angry that it nearly hurt, so angry that it frightened him, how much in that moment he found himself despising Ray, even if he knew he could never hate his friend. Even if he knew that he didn't _want_ to do this. It just came _out_ – he'd never been good at controlling his temper.

Jeremy stood awkwardly, staring between them, not wanting to interrupt.

Finally Ray laughed; a harsh, broken sound. He pulled the engagement ring off his finger in one jerking motion and offered it to Michael.

It was like a slap in the face. But after a moment Michael scoffed, shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “Keep it. Unless you're backing out.”

“I'm not fucking backing out. I figure _you_ wanted this back. That you don't want to do this any more,” Ray spat.

“Well, I'm not,” Michael sneered. “With the crown in Gavin's hands we need to keep our kingdoms united.”

“Fine,” Ray snapped, and jammed the ring back on.

“Fine!”

“ _Fine_ , then!”

They scowled at each other. Michael's stomach was churning. He felt too much pent-up energy and rage. Needed to get into a fight, to _ruin_ something. Trembling, he turned away and took slow, deep breaths until he finally felt his rage simmer down.

“It used to be so easy,” he choked out, not looking at Ray. “Everything. _Us_.”

“Yeah,” Ray replied quietly. “I bet that's what Geoff used to tell Gavin.”

Michael pressed his hands to his eyes for a moment. When he finally turned back around, Ray was watching him, shoulders tense and his face carefully blank.

“I'm sorry,” Michael said, sincerely. “I'm sorry this is hard for you. But it's not my _fault_ , Ray.”

“So it's mine,” Ray replied coldly.

“That's not what I said-”

“But it's what you mean,” Ray spat, fists clenching. “I ruined it, didn't I? The idiot who fell in love with his best friend and made everything _awkward_. Well, guess what, Michael, _you_ came up with this stupid plan. And just now, you had your chance to fucking get out of it if it's bothering you so much.”

“Don't you fucking take this out on me or my kingdom,” Michael snapped.

“I'm not,” Ray began defensively, but he already _had_ , by throwing the archery – how could Michael trust him now? How could he trust _anyone_? He'd never thought Ray would be the one he had to question.

“I mean it,” Michael insisted. “Don't let this... this _awkwardness_ ,” he gestured between them and Ray's jaw clenched as he looked away, “Fuck us over.”

“It won't,” Ray said, frostily. “Trust me, Michael, you don't need to fucking worry about that. It'll be _past tense_ soon enough.”

Michael flinched, and Ray sighed, reaching up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“After all,” he continued, “We saw just then how quickly you can get over someone.”

“Right,” Michael replied stiffly.

He wanted to say something else. Apologise or assure Ray that he still wanted to be friends – that he never wanted them to fall apart completely, the way Geoff and Gavin just had – but Ray still looked annoyed as he turned away, and it made Michael annoyed, too, made him feel like he was the only one that was _trying_ here – he hadn't asked for any of this, but it felt like everyone he liked was slowly turning on him. He had no Gavin to cheer him up, no Geoff to look up to – not even a crown to win, now.

So he turned away as well, folding his arms – glanced over at Jeremy, whose eyes were wide, and pulled a horrible face at him – before continuing to march on in an angry silence, the others trailing along behind him.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Ryan said, as Michael and Ray disappeared from the clearing. “Here we are, then.”

His voice was carefully controlled. It was not difficult. He felt numb and cold – the second Gavin had put the crown on his head, the second it became clear exactly what was going on here, something in him had closed off. It felt like the door which had been slowly opened by Gavin, ushering him through to a warmer, more colourful world, had abruptly been slammed shut, and locked, and the key thrown into some bottomless pit.

It had all been a lie.

And he'd been stupid to fall for it.

He would not be stupid again.

“Here we are,” Gavin repeated quietly. There was no pity in his eyes – _good_ – no remorse, either. _Fine_.

“It's not often I misjudge someone,” Ryan said. “That's a compliment, by the way. Shame on me, I suppose, for not seeing you as dangerous. I ought to have known the second you gave me that favour that if you could turn on Geoff so easily, you could turn on me too.”

“I know what I'm good at,” Gavin said stiffly.

“Seducing people to get what you want from them?” Ryan asked drily, and Gavin's face went cold.

“I kissed you first,” he said. “But think back on that conversation and by any respects _you_ were trying to seduce _me._ I don't trust easily, Ryan. It takes more than a few days and some pretty words. Especially from someone _known_ for manipulation. How the hell do you think it sounded when you started trying to convince me to leave Geoff and join you instead? And I have to say, you did a good job of it. It just happens that I was really the one in control. Anyone else might not have been.”

_Control_. Wasn't it what Ryan had prized for so long? Running things from behind the scenes – keeping his true motivations to himself.

He'd been outplayed at his own game.

That was how he tried to think of it – objectively. Like this was all just _strategy_ , just _chess_. It hurt less than realising how personal it'd been – how much he'd _let_ it be. He'd hoped for too much. Been weaker than he ever wanted to.

“I needed that crown,” he informed Gavin, flatly. “And I was willing to share it with you.”

“No, you weren’t,” Gavin replied. “You said that in the heat of the moment to get me to stay. You'd always have tried to put it on yourself first. I'm sick of being a second choice, Ryan.”

“Either way, you have it now, and I won't forgive or forget that you used me to get it.”

Gavin's face was unreadable. Even when Ryan stepped forward and abruptly swung his sword to press against Gavin's throat, he barely blinked. Just slowly bared his teeth, and wordlessly commanded the mobs to surround them, the draugr raising their bows, the zombies crowding so close that Ryan could smell the rotting flesh between their teeth. Dan didn’t even have to move to defend him.

“You want to kill me and take it? It will not be so easy,” Gavin said. “You still don't scare me, Ryan. Not after all this. I've killed a giant.”

“Let's talk about that, then,” Ryan replied. His heart was pounding, remembering how the last time he'd been pressed so close to Gavin it was under vastly different circumstances.

If Gavin was affected, he didn't show it. He reached up and pushed at Ryan's shoulder until the other man lowered the sword and stepped back. Then he brushed as much of the black dust from his clothes as he could and swept it into Ryan's hand.

“It literally just disintegrated when I killed it,” he said, as Ryan put the dust into his pouch. “Maybe you can make something of that in your lab. It was not a mob.”

“Describe it again,” Ryan said – the sudden appearance of such a powerful beast was bad news so close to his kingdom.

Gavin gestured and the mobs backed away, clearing the space.

“It was as tall as where that tree is,” he said, pointing to a tree above halfway up the cliff face.

“A bull, you said?” Ryan asked, frowning.

“Sort of, yes. But it walked upright and had human hands.” He adopted a funny gait and paced around the clearing – walking on his toes as if a fawn, hunched over slightly, but with the heavy, plodding steps of something enormous. “It was not fast, but it must've been agile to have climbed about in that ravine. Like a goat, perhaps. Enormous horns,” he added, gesturing long and curved horns from his own head. “It had put the crown on. And its eyes were purple.”

“Like an Enderman?” Ryan asked.

Gavin motioned for one of the Endermen to bend down, face-to-face with him, before he dismissed it, and shook his head.

“A similar shade, but brighter.”

Gods, he was observant. He would have made a fine scientist, with the right education.

“The dark energy you mentioned?” he prompted.

“Like smoke, but black. It trailed it everywhere it moved, and when it should have bled.”

Ryan nodded slowly.

“I have never heard of such a creature before. Hopefully testing the dust might yield something. Let's hope there are no more of them.”

Gavin nodded. They fell into silence again, both brooding on this puzzle.

Finally, Gavin spoke again, something tentative and unsure in it.

“I'm sorry,” he began, and Ryan stiffened – _don't even start -_ “I didn't... I didn't realise you actually trusted me.”

“Don't,” Ryan began, voice strained, but Gavin barrelled on.

“I mean it. I really did think you had some other purpose – I knew you liked me, for whatever reason, but I didn't think it was that _much_ – I didn't realise you felt like you were letting me in so much. If I'd seen how much you... I don't know if I would've-”

“Do not flatter yourself,” Ryan burst out. He was shaking, felt frozen – the pity sickened him, made him quake with humiliation. _He thinks you weak._ “You do not affect me as much as you think.”

The look on Gavin's face clearly showed he didn't believe him, and Ryan grew furious with embarrassment.

“You lied to all of us. You lied well. And you betrayed everyone's trust. You have seen how Geoff hates me, and I've never even hurt him personally. How do you think he will react to _you_ , after all this? You may be a king now, _Free_ ,” he spat the name, and Gavin flinched, “But do not think we respect you as anything other than a _thief_.”

“If you could understand why I did it,” Gavin began, “The same way I've tried to understand why you took _your_ crown-”

With a furious roar, Ryan swung his sword and cleaved the draugr closest to Gavin clean in half. Dan yelled in surprise and started forward, but Gavin raised a hand, keeping all the mobs at bay, his eyes fixed on Ryan, something worried in it.

Ryan stood, breathing heavily, shoulders heaving. He thought he might throw up – couldn't stand to hear Gavin speak of all the secrets he'd been let in on – act as though any _connection_ they'd felt, any kinship, had been anything more than a lie. Oh, fool, fool, Ryan had been a _fool_ to think it was a good idea to let anyone in. To let himself _believe_.

“They were right,” he growled, and confusion flickered across Gavin's face.

“Who?”

“Your eyes. You are cursed – you _are_ a curse – you have come here and ruined all of us. A plague on the Ramsey line for ever bringing a _witch_ into my kingdom. You fucking _disease_ – better that you stay out here with these _monsters_ -” He swept a hand around viciously at the mobs. “They bring nothing but suffering. You belong here.”

Gavin stared at him. There was something hurt in his eyes, but he covered it with a steely glare.

Ryan glared back, then turned to leave.

“Watch your back, fool,” he said coldly. “You are not the only one with an army. Any trouble from the Wild and you will find me coming to reclaim that crown.”

Gavin didn't reply, even if Dan scowled and lifted his sword. Ryan cast them both a final, scornful glance, then swept out of the clearing.

Simmering with hate, he returned to the city, the fortress, _stone_ , alone.

 

* * *

 

Jack had never expected when he woke up the morning of the archery that the games would end like this. That they'd return to the Stoneworld without Gavin. Things seemed to have happened so fast – it felt a little unreal, like any moment he'd wake up and realise it'd all been some nightmare.

But he didn't wake up, and every now and then he'd jolt with the realisation that this was really happening. Gavin was gone.

He was all out of tears by the time he finished packing up his belongings, ready to return to the plains. He sat back, staring at his luggage, feeling nothing but a hollow numbness – and a faint, dull exhaustion behind his eyes. It was nearly dawn by now, and none of them had slept. He couldn't bear to think of Gavin alone out there, back in the Wild – couldn't bear to think of Gavin at all. His memory of the other man, covered in blood and dirt with the crown on his head, seemed a totally different person to the one he knew. The one he _loved_.

It felt like they'd lost him forever.

_Can't... you can't think like that... it won't be permanent. You'll see him again. He'll come_ back _. This will all be fine_.

The promises felt empty. Even his optimism, it seemed, had an end point. All he could do was take a little comfort in the fact that Dan had stayed with Gavin.

After some time he rose and went to find Geoff. The other man's rooms were unlocked, the door swinging open. Jack crept in tentatively to find that he had also finished packing and was sitting on the bed, his crown in his lap and his head hanging down. He looked up when Jack entered, and Jack's heart clenched as he realised that Geoff had been crying too. They hadn't spoken since he caught up to Geoff and they headed back to the city, save for Geoff curtly ordering him to pack and telling Matt to inform everyone else that they were going to leave.

“Geoff...” he began softly.

“I don't want to talk right now.” Geoff's voice was thick and choked, and he began to turn away, but Jack scowled and shut the door behind him, stepping further into the room.

“I do,” he snapped, and Geoff looked up, startled at his tone. Jack swallowed hard and continued, “I need you for once, Geoff. So don't you dare tell me to get out.”

Geoff bit his lip, chastised. Jack came and sat next to him on the bed and leaned in after a moment, resting his head on Geoff's shoulder. Geoff didn't pull away, just laid the crown on the bed next to him so that he could pull Jack into a proper hug. Jack wrapped his arms around Geoff's waist and buried his face in the crook of the other man's neck, feeling fresh tears welling up. He could feel Geoff shaking too, even as he squeezed Jack tightly.

“You're not going anywhere,” Jack choked out, and Geoff huffed out a hysterical sort of laugh.

“No, I'm not,” he replied.

Jack clung to him a moment longer. When he pulled back Geoff was staring at him, looking as torn as Jack felt – reassured by his presence, but feeling that nagging emptiness that they were meant to be _three_ , not two.

“Geoff...”

“I'm here,” Geoff replied, and Jack closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I wish we'd told him,” he blurted out. He felt Geoff stiffen, but pushed on. “He might still be here if we had. I have to tell _you_ , I... after that, I can't _not_. I love you.” It was a relief, more than anything, to finally get the words out. “You know that, right?”

He opened his eyes to find Geoff staring at him, mouth hanging open a little, looking ready to cry again. After a moment he seemed to gather himself, and let out another shaky, humourless laugh.

“Yes, Jack,” he replied, voice choked. “I know.”

“We should've known he wouldn't,” Jack continued, the guilt heavy in his chest now. “He's... he's not like us. He had no one for so long.”

“Jack...”

“Why did you have to tell him to leave?” Jack cried, distressed as he remembered those awful moments in the jungle again, the words he hadn't been able to believe he was hearing. “Why did you banish him, Geoff – it's _Gavin_.”

“After what he did-”

“So he took it for himself,” Jack snapped, and pulled away from Geoff. “We weren't going to win it anyway!”

Geoff stared at him for a moment, anger and hurt burning in his eyes.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he said after a moment. “I don't want to talk about _him_. He stole those maps from us and ran away – he _chose to leave us_ , Jack! He chose to stay there!”

“Not forever-”

“I don't want to hear about him again,” Geoff insisted, petulantly, and Jack scowled.

“You know that's impossible.”

“Just don't talk about it,” Geoff said, and squeezed his eyes shut, something very pained in his face. “I need you right now, Jack, just _you_ -”

“You shouldn't have banished him,” Jack insisted. He was angry with Geoff, vaguely – angry with him for what he'd done back in the Wild. Angry with him for pushing Gavin away over the last few days. He knew he had had a share in it, too – but it was easier to blame someone else.

And he wanted to be close to Geoff – he wanted to take comfort from him, for the two of them to at least support each other – but it felt _wrong_ , without Gavin here. And Geoff's insistence on what he'd done, and his lingering annoyance with Gavin, was upsetting. Jack couldn't be around that right now, and he rose, heading for the door.

“Jack?” Geoff called out. “Where are you going?”

“Maybe you're right,” Jack said stiffly. “We should both be alone right now. Calm down and think about it more.”

Geoff stared at him.

“Jack, please,” he began, desperately. Jack ignored him, opening the door, only to stop short when Geoff cried, voice breaking a little, “I can feel him!”

He looked over his shoulder. Geoff was clutching at his chest and Jack bit his lip. He knew he could never understand the odd connection the five kings had with each other, that intimate binding of five lives together, a constant awareness that the others were there, _alive_. Geoff had tried to explain it before, but it was difficult to imagine.

“At least you have that,” he replied. His voice came out small and broken. “I don't.”

He swept out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and hurried down the corridor and then the stairs, upset and shaking. He paused, breathing heavily, trying to gather himself, only to pause when he caught a flash of movement.

He was by the side of the throne room, and Ryan had just exited another door that Jack knew led to one of his meeting halls. He'd clearly just come out of a session with his court – likely explaining to them everything that had gone on – and it must not have gone well, because he looked furious. He stormed across the room and then slammed a fist against the wall behind the throne. A burst of redstone blossomed around his fist like a glowing bloodstain.

Jack stepped out of the stairwell and Ryan froze as he noticed him. Jack approached tentatively and Ryan stared at him.

“You are leaving,” he said finally, flatly, and Jack nodded, pausing at the base of the dais.

“The storm's just about passed,” he replied. “In a few hours we'll head back to the plains.”

Ryan nodded. He fell into a tense silence, one hand resting on the back of the throne. After a moment Jack glanced at the door he'd come out of, and when Ryan noticed, he huffed.

“My counsellors are not happy,” he said flatly. “They want us to invade the Wild and take the crown back. It is a bad idea – none of you would stand for it, and Gavin has more tricks up his sleeve than we ever thought. I won't let them do it.”

“But it won't be a popular decision,” Jack observed, and Ryan shook his head, reaching up to rub at his temples with a sigh. Jack felt suddenly very sorry for him, and took a few steps up towards the throne.

“You will handle it,” he assured him. “If anyone can, it's you. I mean it.”

Ryan looked away, his fingers clutching the back of the throne so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Don't,” he choked out, so desperately that it took Jack aback. “Don't say things like that.”

“It's true,” Jack insisted, and Ryan shook his head furiously.

“ _Don't_ , Jack,” he snapped, and looked up at him. His eyes were burning, and with his hair dishevelled, his clothes still muddy and damp from the creeper attack in the Wild, he looked more out of control than Jack had ever seen him. He watched Ryan swallow, hard, then continue – voice tight – “How can you still trust _anyone's_ judgment after what Gavin did? After all you have _lost_ today?”

Jack stared at him. Ryan was breathing heavily, and Jack remembered his exchange with Gavin back in the Wild. How there had been something between the two of them – Geoff had told him they were getting close, too close, but he suddenly wondered just how far things had gone. What was going on here, why Ryan was so affected when once he'd've thought the other man would take this the calmest of all of them.

“What happened?” he asked, and a flash of hurt crossed Ryan's face before it disappeared under his cold mask again.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied. He turned away from the throne, striding down the stone stairs and pacing across the room. “It won't happen again. I won't _let it_. We have all learned a harsh lesson from this... incident,” he said, glancing at Jack. “Sometimes that's the way it needs to be.”

Jack bit his lip. It was clear how _hurt_ Ryan was, as much as he tried to hide it. Jack had always been good at seeing things like that. And he'd noticed, in little ways, how Ryan had opened up – when he'd sat with Gavin, when he'd spoken with Ray and Jack himself at dinner – there was something friendlier about him. Ryan himself probably hadn't even realised it. But now he had turned cold and hard and awful again, even worse than he'd been before. It made Jack ache to see.

“I have to hope,” he said, in answer to Ryan's earlier question. “Or I have nothing.”

Ryan walked over to the wall and braced himself against it with one hand, fingers clenching against the stone. He didn't look at Jack as he seemed to take the words in.

“Nothing is safer,” he muttered finally.

Jack bit his lip, miserable.

“Are Michael and Ray in their rooms?” he asked, wanting to switch the subject. “I should say goodbye to them before we leave.”

“Why?” Ryan sneered.

Jack couldn't think of an answer, and Ryan turned towards him and laughed, harshly.

“Don't bother,” he said. “They're at odds with each other too. These games have ruined all of us! This is what I get for trying to be diplomatic.”

“Why are they fighting?” Jack asked with a frown, although he could guess – he wasn’t sure why Ray had behaved that way in the games, but after his conversation with the other man the night before, things clearly still weren't going well with Michael.

Ryan just shrugged.

“You have more than enough problems back in the plains to deal with,” he replied. “Don't involve yourself in others'. Focus on your home. Keep Geoff close, so you don't lose anyone else. Or if you want my advice, then distance yourself. It hurts less when you don't love the people who disappoint you.”

He sounded so bitter and tired that Jack ached for him.

But he was out of energy.

Too much had happened. He'd _given_ too much. He had nothing left to help Michael, or Ray, or Ryan, or even _Geoff_ right now. He just needed time to himself – to process what had happened – to grieve, in a way.

So he just nodded, and fancied something sad and almost disappointed flickered over Ryan's face. But Jack had nothing more to say to him, and bowed. After a final muttered, “Until next time, then, my lord,” he turned away and left by himself in silence.

.

.

.

There was change in the air.

So it happened that within the course of a few days, the Wild was won by a fool, and the five kings were complete once more. But as everyone returned home, a lurking unease remained that nothing would ever be the same – not after the appearance of the beast, not with a royal wedding on the horizon, not when the golem army was nearly ready to emerge. Not after a rare meeting of all the kings had ended with relations even more strained than they'd ever been before.

.

The plains delegation were just drawing out of the city when they stopped at the sight of a woman riding towards them at a furious pace. As she drew nearer the plains insignia became clearly visible on her horse's breastplate and her own clothing.

“I hope you bring good news,” Geoff called out as she came to a halt in front of them, but from the look on her face she clearly did not, and in the grey, overcast afternoon light, the darkness that lingered in the wake of the storm, a dread seemed to have settled over everyone.

“My lord,” she greeted, breathlessly. “I didn't realise the games had ended. Please the gods but I need to hear that you won.”

Geoff's face clouded over.

“No one won,” he replied, shortly. “I will explain later. What tidings from the plains?”

Her face had fallen at his words. The dread intensified at the fear in her eyes.

“Lindsay sent me here to request your urgent return,” she said. “There have been uprisings in the outer cities. Baron Nutt has officially declared he wishes to depose you and claims his thanedom is now free of your command. He is steadily gaining allies and even Achievement City is in unrest. There are rumours everywhere that you've lost control. Lindsay's trying to suppress them but they have their own armies and the civilian population has been goaded into fighting for them as well.”

Geoff's face had gone pale and tight. The soldiers and courtiers, listening in, began to murmur uneasily amongst themselves. Beside Geoff, Jack bit his lip, looking helpless and lost for words.

Finally Geoff drew in a deep breath.

“I see,” he said, flatly. “It seems we must make haste back then.”

The messenger nodded, looking away. It was all they _could_ do – far from home as they were, weeks of travel between them and the city – there would be a helpless wait as they made their way back.

“Geoff,” Jack began softly, as they began to move again, rather faster than they had been previously.

“I will consult with Lindsay tonight by the Sight,” Geoff said, voice tight. He took a deep breath and added, more resolute, “No matter what they do, there is one law they cannot break. The intrinsic rule of all five kingdoms that commands us all. Only the one who holds the crown and the gift is king.” He touched the bag on his back where his own crown was kept close by. “And they're not getting their fucking hands on this any time soon.”

.

In the Wild, Gavin and Dan sat, alone, by the light of a redstone torch. The mobs had all been sent away, but every now and then Gavin would jerk, as though waking from a daze, as one of them encountered or saw something, or fell in a pit, or began to roam too far out of the Wild. He was a thousand eyes now, a thousand minds, and in command of all of them. It was strong because it was new – gradually it would fade, and he'd only be able to command them, not sense each at every individual moment. But for now, it felt like being torn in all directions, spread across hundreds of bodies.

Dan was bandaging his wounds, glancing up at his friend in concern when Gavin barely flinched as he bound his ribs and cleaned the bloody grazes. Finally he finished and touched Gavin's arm softly.

“B?”

Gavin jolted again. Met his eyes and seemed to wake up. A small smile – Dan looked relieved.

“Thank you,” he said.

Dan rose, and pulled Gavin to his feet as well.

“What's the plan now, then?” he asked, and his voice was jovial but forced, an uncertain tremor underneath.

“Shelter,” Gavin replied. “Food. Geoff...” his voice faltered; he pushed on. “Geoff told me of old castles here. The previous kings must've lived somewhere. They will take us.”

Two draugr stepped forward, holding flaming torches – skeletal guides to lead their way. Dan still seemed uneasy to look at them, but nodded.

“Okay,” he said.

“This is home now,” Gavin added. It seemed to sink in suddenly, and both of them drew closer together, Dan's hand on Gavin's arm clutching tightly as they followed the draugr deeper into the dark jungle.

.

The alpine and desert delegations stood together at the exit to the castle. Geoff had left some hours ago, and Ryan hadn't bothered coming out to see them off. Packed and ready to go, only Ray and Michael were not on their horses yet, standing together before the rest of their people, regarding each other coldly.

“The wedding will be in two months,” Michael said finally. “Some of my people are already on the way to the desert to help with the arrangements.”

“Good,” Ray replied.

Michael paused.

“I suppose that'll be the next time I see you,” he continued, and Ray nodded, folding his arms.

“That seems accurate,” he said.

“Better to get it done as soon as possible,” Michael added. “So there can be... stability.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Ray replied, flatly.

There was an awkward silence.

Ryan wasn't here, but members of his court were, standing outside the doors to the great hall and watching them with beady eyes. Michael spared them a glance before stepping forward, and Ray realised what he was doing and met him in a kiss.

It was an angry kiss, yet somehow with no passion in it. Ray barely reciprocated, even if he'd leaned in; just stood there stiffly. Michael's grip on his arm was loose, barely touching him, and his movements were rough and awkward, too much scraping of teeth like he didn't quite know what he was doing. It hurt both of them equally and when they stepped back Ray reached up and wiped at his mouth, not even bothering to disguise it.

“I'll see you later then, I suppose,” he said.

Michael looked pained. He didn't reply, just gave a stiff nod, turned away, and got onto his horse before riding off. His delegation followed – Ray waited, staring after them. His chest heaved in a sigh, face falling for a minute before he turned to his own horse.

.

Ryan stood at the table in his great hall in the dim redstone light. When Mica entered, her footsteps echoed in the otherwise ominously silent room.

“The army aren't happy,” she said, when Ryan looked up at her. “They want us to take the crown back.”

“We have bigger problems than Free,” Ryan replied, ushering her over. He lifted the paper he'd been examining – there was a charcoal sketch of the beast on it, the best he'd managed from Gavin's description.

“Minotaur,” Mica said thoughtfully, and Ryan stiffened.

“What did you just call it?” he demanded, and she look up in surprise.

“Minotaur?” she repeated, hesitant. “I mean, they're just stories. You know – dragons, minotaurs, all those sorts of things – I read a lot of mythology when I was younger.”

“Not part of my mother's curriculum,” Ryan said drily. “Where do they come from?”

“Nowhere,” she replied. “They're just _stories_. You know – in ancient times they were a part of the land. Times when gods made themselves manifest to humans and kings had all sorts of powers, like turning things to gold with a touch. A false history – a fantasy.”

“You're right,” Ryan mused. “I've heard those tales. The beast seems similar.”

He stared at the picture for a long moment before setting it down with a sigh.

“I analysed the dust,” he said. “It has some properties similar to what I've seen in an Enderman's pelt, but it's also full of other things that I've never seen before and couldn't figure out. Whatever it is, it didn't come from this world. And for now, it's the only one of its kind we've seen, and appeared in the Wild – but who's to say more won't come?”

Mica nodded, frowning. Ryan turned away, walking over to the window and folding his arms.

“I will do everything I have to to protect my people,” he said, slowly, almost threateningly. “But the court and its demands may undermine that. There's unrest coming, Mica.”

“I understand,” she replied softly.

“I hope that the people I believe to be on my side won't let me down.” He turned to look at her. With the light from the window behind him, his face was shadowed and impossible to read. “But after what happened with this crown, I won't take any chances.”

She nodded. There was no fear in her face, and Ryan watched her for a long moment before nodding in return and turning back to the window.

.

The castle of the Wild was in ruins. It must have been a magnificent place, once – an enormous stone building that sprawled across the hills, full of winding stone staircases and towers. In places, the enormous trees that were so tall their trunks blocked out the sky were incorporated into its architecture.

But it had crumbled, fallen into disrepair, many of the stone walls knocked down and missing in places, and it was overgrown with weeds, moss and hanging vines. Nature had swept back in to claim it, and spiderwebs hung in thick threads, birds nesting in every nook and crevice.

The broken chunks of stone all over the courtyard looked like headstones in a graveyard, and walking into the ruined building itself felt like entering an enormous tomb. They walked into the main hall, which still had most of its walls up, but was empty of any furniture or even flooring, just bare dirt under their feet and lichen growing up the walls.

There were signs of vagrancy here – a tattered blanket strewn in one corner, half-eaten animal carcasses and rusted pots and pans. But no life, not now – and Dan let out a disgusted murmur as he pointed at a skeleton lying sprawled in the corner.

Gavin took the torch from one of the draugr and walked over to investigate. The remains were old – so old that no flesh clung to the bones – but there were the tattered remains of clothes. Once human, then. Not a mob.

“Gav... this place,” Dan whispered. Even speaking softly, his voice echoed throughout the hall. “It feels wrong.”

“The whole Wild feels wrong,” Gavin replied absently. “Everything in it seems to breathe.”

Dan nodded, and Gavin straightened up and paced into the centre of the room, holding the torch up. The glass that had once filled the high, arched windows was smashed and broken, and dark hallways led off in every direction.

“I'll have the mobs guard us while we stay here,” Gavin said.

Dan pulled a face.

“That's still not very reassuring to me,” he muttered, and Gavin turned to him.

“They won't hurt you,” he said, and sighed. “There must be signs around here somewhere of who the previous Wild king was. Where he came from. And records of people who've been here before, even if they're just remnants – clues we need to piece together. I can order the mobs to lead me to the important things in the Wild. We'll get used to it, Dan. Soon we'll know our way around. We rule this place now. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

“Everything's in ruins,” Dan pointed out, and Gavin nodded.

“I'm going to rebuild it,” he said, determined. Dan raised his eyebrows, and he continued, “I mean it. This castle. Anything else around here. I'll clear paths, make trails – clean everything up. Start growing crops. The mobs are a workforce at my fingertips. They don't tire, they can work all night – it won't take long.”

Dan stared at him.

“You're really having a go at this,” he said incredulously. “Being king. You're not just gonna find out about your parents and then fuck on out of here?”

Gavin shrugged, but there was something determined in the twist of his mouth.

“I'm king until someone kills me, Dan,” he pointed out. “I might as well make the most of it. The others complain so much about no one controlling the Wild; well, I'm capable of more than they think I am.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, for a moment suddenly vulnerable. For a moment, his careful control faltering as he seemed to remember just what he'd given up to get here. But he pushed it away and straightened up, eyes flashing.

“I'll show them.”

“Yeah, well.” Dan smiled, finally, and stepped closer. “I'm here whatever you need.”

Gavin smiled back.

“Right now, we need to explore this creepy castle,” he said, and Dan groaned.

“Gods. I bet it's haunted.”

“Let's find out,” Gavin replied, and lifted the torch higher, picking a hallway and heading through into the dark.

.

Geoff and his party paused when they reached the top of the last ridge in the Stoneworld, right before they had a clear path back to the plains. Only days ago they had stopped here, and seen the capital city for the first time. It was the same time of day now – afternoon, but with a redder sun after the storm, washing an eerie light over everything.

From this height, they caught the last glimpse of the Wild behind them.

Jack stood, staring out at it. His eyes were red, but dry, his lips pressed tightly together. Near him, Geoff took a swig from a dark glass bottle. It was nearly empty already.

“Move on,” he ordered.

Jack bit his lip as the party began to move again. Geoff looked over at him, then at the Wild. He stared at it too for a long moment, face twisting, then turned away and drained the rest of the bottle. When it was finished, he threw it violently over the edge of the ridge. It smashed against the hard rocks with such force that it shattered into pieces small as dust, sparkling under the red sun.

The sound made Jack jump. He glanced at Geoff, who didn't look back at him. Then took a deep breath and turned away on his horse, riding after the rest of the delegation. Geoff looked down, fists clenching tight around his reins before he followed. Before long the Wild and the Stoneworld vanished away behind them.

.

On the border between the Stoneworld and the alps, the alpine delegation burned the body of their dead soldier. The funeral pyre sent gallons of black smoke pumping into the air, stark against the glaring white sky. The ashes carried away into the wind as they stood, heads bowed, until he was nothing but dust. The wolfskin cape they kept for his family.

Michael was the last to turn away. As everyone else left, he reached up, gently touching the flower pinned to his cloak.

He still had one of the roses Ray had given him. Even magic as it was, it was darkened by now, wilted and dying. The colour fading to black and the scene stronger and almost putrid because of it.

He fingered the petals for a moment, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he abruptly pulled it from his cloak and laid it on the remains of the pyre before turning to follow the others away.

.

The capital of the Stoneworld was busy that afternoon. Everyone had emerged after the storm and was busily and efficiently repairing the damage caused by the flooding – getting back into the swing of business, setting up their market stalls and running redstone back from the mines along the railroad tracks again.

It was by all accounts a perfectly normal day – until people began to stop, and gasp, a frozen stillness descending on them as clanking footsteps rang out among the stone streets, everyone turning in comical sequence to see what all the fuss was about.

A series of enormous iron golems were emerging from the castle gates and marching down the streets with a purpose. Tall and broad, they cast dark shadows across the roads behind them.

People shrank back, afraid. The golems marched forward without wavering, forcing people to run and dodge out of their path. Mothers ushered their children back, fearful murmurs started up – hushed gasps and whispers as the machines passed, their red eyes glinting soullessly. Even the soldiers on patrol straightened up, unsure, their eyes darting up to the fortress, clearly uninformed as to what was going on.

The unnatural, metallic ring of their footsteps continued as they moved unfaltering down the road, bringing silence in their wake. Despite their uncertainty, before long curiosity took over and there was a crowd of wide-eyed people hesitantly following them at a distance as they left through the gates at the side of the city.

Outside the city limits, they spread out in a uniform line – people crowded at the gates, peering out, the guards on the wall leaning over and craning to see as the golems positioned themselves an equal distance apart along the line of the wall.

Finally, with a _clank_ , they all stopped short – and then turned in unison to form a decisive line facing the Wild, and raised their fists.

The people began to mutter amongst themselves, glancing at the golems – the fortress – the Wild – _alive? Machine? An army? King Ryan – what's happening? Did you hear the news of the fool? Will he attack with these? Are they to keep_ us _in line?_

The iron golems paid no attention to them. Their eyes pulsed, the red glowing brighter and fading in turns. They were alert – threatening – ready to strike at a moment's notice, their gaze fixed on nothing but the dark jungle beyond.

.

The throne room of the Wild castle was ruined but grand.

The chamber was eerily empty of everything save a raised dais on one side, and the throne atop that. Vines crept over the walls and hung through gaps in the windows and roof. There was a great hole in one part of the enormously high ceiling, and the afternoon sun streamed through it, bright and mockingly cheerful. Dust motes floated in the streams of light, as well as a fluttering group of dark moths. There was a white cat sprawled in the centre of the sunlight, a lithe, skinny thing that regarded Gavin and Dan with a lazy flick of its green eyes when they entered, not bothering to rise.

There was something in the stillness of the room that made both of them pause. Something heavy, and warm, and full of meaning – like the reverence of a temple or an empty cathedral.

Dan stopped in the doorway. Gavin continued forward to the throne, something jerking and puppet-like in his steps, as though some invisible force had pulled him. The dais was ridiculously high – two dozen stone steps led up to the chair itself, which was covered in carved tangles of spikes over the armrests and up around the back of it. A throne of thorns for a crown of thorns – there were other decorations, too, butterflies and flowers and skulls – but the jagged points were the most obvious feature.

Gavin reached the top of the dais and paused. There was dark, dried blood all over the chair and the top few steps – spatters and streaks and awful smears. Something bad had happened here, something violent.

He tilted his head, contemplating it for a second, before reaching out and sweeping the dust and sand from the seat of the throne. Then he hesitated.

He closed his eyes. His blood rushed in his ears, his heart was pounding – hadn't stopped since he put the crown on. He could feel the others still, crowding for space in him, a vibrant slamming _pulse_ of life – Michael burned hottest of all, while Ryan was a cold press like ice. Ray was the fresh tang of nature, of flowers and vegetation, but slightly sickened now, like overripe fruit – Geoff, too, was dull and sluggish and _slow_ , making him feel lethargic if he dwelled on it too long.

But they were all _here_ , a living part of his consciousness, and focusing on them felt better than the nearly painful mental stretch of every mob in the Wild pulling at him.

_Get used to it_. Gavin took a deep breath and opened his eyes, adjusting the crown on his head and reaching out to run a hand along the thorny arm of the chair.

Alone in his kingdom, but with the others in his heart, the Wild king took his place on his wild throne.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is the final chapter of this story, but **there will be a sequel.**
> 
> I’m taking a short break and finishing up a four-chapter GTA AU story, but once that’s done I’ll start work on the next fic in this series :) The purpose of this story was always to establish who wins the Wild crown, but the next one will involve the OT6 actually coming together.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment, leave kudos or message me on tumblr! I’ve been overwhelmed by the response to this story; I had so much fun writing it and I’m really happy that others could enjoy it too! A big thank you to everyone who helped test-read the first chapter, all those who so kindly made me art or fanmixes, and particularly to Angelology, justisaisfine, and greatahw for their help. Special thanks to koletato for letting me use his idea for one of the crowns. <3
> 
> I’m super excited to continue to write more in this AU! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Like A Prayer Unto The Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452911) by [missingnolovefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic)




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